One Last Try
by Ellyanah
Summary: 25 years after Voldemort's demise,the world is not in a good shape, nor is Harry and his friends. Realising that they had put trust in the wrong hands and ideals, they send their souls to their 11 year old bodies, their one last try at happiness. HPSS
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter if I did ...well read this story and you'll understand

Prologue:

Time had passed in the wizard world since Voldemort's defeat. Harry had received an order of Merlin first class for defeating the dark lord. The ministry had offered him a position as an Auror even if Harry had never passed his NEWT in Potions. Harry refused the job offer though. His public statement was that he had had enough fighting for a life time. The public accepted that easily. They did not take it quite so well when Harry did not settle to have a family. Not that it bothered him much; Harry secluded himself in his house, and kept away from the public. In 42 years of life, Harry never took a job. It was a rather foolish notion really. He was the heir of one of the wealthiest family in the wizard world after all. The management of his estates was enough.

He wasn't idle though. He spent his days experimenting and doing research. In fact, his house resembled a library much more than a house. Hermione would have been proud had she lived ... well, she might have been slightly annoyed at the quantity of books on Nargals and such. After all, Luna _had_ helped him build the library... Harry could just imagine Hermione scowling at him from the Heavens. No matter, he'll see her soon. The thought made Harry chuckle. Soon he would see all of them again.

Harry carefully placed a note in plain sight on the table in his dining room; a table on which he had never eaten a single meal... really the table was a lot more suited to hold a dozen books, then again Harry thought the same for all surfaces - if his house was anything to go by. Said books were now neatly resting on the shelves of the library - it wouldn't do to leave his house in disorder. Harry strolled happily to his study, and picked up the dagger that would serve his goal. In one clean stroke... Harry cut a shallow wound on his palm, and let the blood fall on the center runes of the pentagram.

The runes flashed once, and Harry disappeared.

In the smallest bedroom, in a boring house of Privet Drive a loud groan was heard, before Harry happily passed out.

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A/N: Hi, I decided to put my comments at the end so as to not scare of the few who did not run off after my summary. This story will be HP/SS though I am not sure if it will be slash or not though I tend to think it will be. Feel free to vote for the pairings you like or the plots twist you want, I will take count of that. Just so you know, I hate Ron, so don't pair him up with anyone nice please. Reviews, Votes and Flames are most welcome. Though if you flame me please take the time to check my grammar and spelling this way you can say I am a moron while being useful, best of both world really. If someone makes a racist, sexist or homophobic remark in a review or flame just know that I will strangle you mentally.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If I told you I own Harry Potter a voice inside my head would laugh hysterically and tell me to keep on dreaming.

Italic are for thoughts.

_Chapter 1:_

Harry woke up the next day cursing his headache. He rolled over to try and find a more comfortable position, only to fall of his bed and bump his head on a drawer. Last time he had awoken with such a pleasant, clear head was 4 months ago, when he and Draco had both proceeded to get completely smashed while nostaligicly joking about their deceased friends. Completely drunk, they had come up with a plan to change things. Of course at that time, they thought it was just another drunken plan that would never hold in the light of day. They hadn't calculated Luna in the equation.

When they laughingly told her the absurd plan they had came up with in their drunken stupor, Luna had sagely nodded before exiting the room. The next day, Harry's dining room had been invaded by dozens of huge dusty tomes. Luna was sprawled on the floor, her wand tucked behind her ear drawing runes frantically. Next to her, Draco was reading one of the tomes while taking hasty notes. As soon as Harry's presence had been noted, Draco had jumped on him and put him to work.

For four months the trio worked on their plan. Of course that didn't mean that they were working on the formula to go back. Nah, Luna had found how to do it correctly after two weeks... she claimed that a Nargal had told her. So, they had spent the majority of their time perfecting ways to do magic undetected while under the underage restriction and learning all they could on everything that could even remotely help. Yesterday found their task completed. All that was left to do was to go home, write a suicide note, and complete the ritual. The suicide note was Draco's idea. He had argued that the timeline they would change might not affect this timeline, so they might as well provide an explanation for their disappearance. No one would question the suicide of the boy-who-lived-in-seclusion, Draco had written a note worthy of Shakespeare to explain his deed and Luna... well Luna had said that a Nargal had told her to do it... no one could question that.

Looking down at himself, Harry confirmed the success of the experiment. He was back to being a too thin, too short boy in overlarge clothes, _oh joy._ Looking around the round, he saw that he was in Dudley's second bedroom. _Thanks Merlin for that, I can't imagine having to go through the whole summer with those muggles without cursing them._ And sadly enough, Harry's plan did not involve cursing his relatives while he was eleven. Harry had argued for it, but Draco had said it was a bad strategic decision, and Harry had to comply. After all, Harry had forbidden Draco from killing Ron on sight. His aunt's shriek interrupted his musings.

"BOY! Get down here. Dudders needs his food. I won't accept your pathetic attempt at making my Dudders flimsy from starvation!"

Remembering how his cousin had died from a heart attack at 22 due to his clogged arteries, Harry hurried down to make breakfast, taking special care to keep the bacon extra greasy. _Well, no one said I wasn't allowed to help him on his way to an early grave..._ Needless to say, Harry watched gleefully as Dudley stuffed his face. Harry ate his meager portion, while planning on how to incorporate as much Trans fat as possible in the menu for the other meals. Towards the end of the meal, just after Dudley's seventh helping, Harry was able to steal a glance at the date on Vernon's newspaper: August 31th. Harry's joy at not having to stay any longer with his relatives was only dampened by his disappointment at not being able to fatten Dudley more. After breakfast, Harry suggested a feast in the honor of Dudley's entrance at Smelting. Petunia loved the idea, and maliciously told Harry to cook it, if he wanted to have the lunch leftovers for dinner. Harry's evil smirk went unnoticed, and he busied himself for the rest of the day making the most fattening food he could imagine. Late evening found Harry munching a carrot happily in his room, all the while imagining his cousin exploded. A boy - well a grown man in a boy's body - could dream.

Harry woke up at the crack of dawn. His trunk ready, he exited the house without as much as a goodbye. Taking out his wand, he called the Night Bus. He made his way to the nearest seat and held on with all his strength. _Merlin, I'm too old for this. _He thought as the bus started with a loud Bang. A green Harry left the bus, silently vowing to invent a better form of public transport. Arriving at King Cross, the memory of another time surged into his mind. He remembered as a small boy made his way pushing an enormous cart ahead of him, insecure, going to a world unknown. Never had the boy imagine what would unfold in the years to come. How he would make all the wrong choices... _Enough self pity now Harry, this time we are prepared. _A determined look crossed Harry's face, soon to be replace by a mischievous expression. _Let the games begin. _With that thought, Harry stepped through the barrier.

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A/N: Hello. If you are reading this then it means that you've read my second chapter. So I am giving you a virtual cookie. I am going to repost the first chapter to change the format. I am going to start writing the 3rd chapter now, I just thought that this was the natural break. I am struggling trying to find in what house to place Harry. Remember if you have any ideas for the story, review and vote for it. For flamers, please don't forget to correct my spelling if you're going to flame me. I found a Beta and she's great. This chapter and the prologue are being reposted with her corrections. You should all worship her because without her this story wouldn't make any sense.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2:**_

_**Disclaimer: **__Harry ended up with Ginny, that the proof that I don't own Harry Potter._

A/N: This is the 1st chapter posted with the changes made by my amazing beta Sesshy'sSannah. Without her the story wouldn't make sense so join me and let's all worship her and give her cookies.

**Spells will be in bold**

The platform was deserted. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that it was presently six in the morning… Harry strode leisurely to the last compartment of the shiny Hogwarts Express. He took out a book and immersed himself in his readings.

Hours passed and the platform slowly filled. One look at the window made Harry very glad he came in early. Outside, chaos reigned. Families were saying a tearful goodbye. Kids were running everywhere to talk to friends and exchange gossip. Siblings pretended that they had never met before. Purebloods made polite inquiries on the health of other purebloods… In contrast, his compartment was blissfully empty and silent. _Thank Merlin for that._ He had placed a **notice me not** spell on the doors hoping to avoid intrusions. Finally the train left the station; tearful families in pursuit. Harry heard the voice he was waiting for a quickly relented the charm on the doors and opened them. A gangly red-haired was arguing with a bushy head witch in the corridor.

"I don't care what the rule says! Scabbers have been in the family for years. And Percy had him at Hogwarts with him! Anyway how would you know, you're just a muggleborn. Go be a know-it-all elsewhere" The read-head shouted.

Harry was delighted to see his friend again. A silly – slightly maniacal - grin spread on his face. He pushed back his hair out of his face to get a clearer view of his old (new?) best-friend.

"Tough day?"Harry asked the grin still in place.

"You have no idea mate. This girl is the worst know-it-all I've ever met!"Responded the gangly red-haired who had a brown spot on his nose.

The bushy head witch's eyes were beginning to water, and she turn around sharply.

"Wait. What did I say? Please come back! I want to know if you know the other rules at Hogwarts!" Harry called after her.

"Stop making fun of me!" Hermione was pissed. God, it had been too long since he'd seen those eyes sending daggers his way.

"I'm not, promise. Wait here a sec!" With that Harry run into the compartment… and came back with the one of the books he was reading earlier: Hogwarts an History.

"I've read it a couple of times and they don't say all the rules so I was wondering if you knew them. He" Harry pointed at Ron "said that you knew everything. So I thought that maybe you might be willing to tell me." Harry said with his biggest, brightest, most innocent puppy dog eyes.

The anger in Hermione's eyes had diminished, but Harry could tell that she still half-thought he was making fun of her. Ron did too apparently because he took the momentary pause to once again insult Hermione.

"Good one mate. She totally fell for the puppy dog look." Ron turned to Hermione. "Go away you nerd, no one want to be friends with a bossy know it all like you!"

"I'm a nerd too! Want to be friends?" said an apparently very exited Harry, the puppy eyes still in place. When Hermione hesitated, Harry continued "Please, we can review the whole year material. Together we will be able to quiz each other on the subjects. Friends?"

"Sure" said a confused Hermione. On her behalf, it must be said that it's not everyday that a cute kid with bright emerald eyes pulled off the totally innocent look on her. Future Hermione would just have raised an eyebrow at him…

"Yah!" with that Harry dragged Hermione into his compartment and shut the doors, leaving a stunned Ronald Weasley behind.

"I'm Harry." Harry released Hermione's hand and presented his for a handshake.

"My name is Hermione Granger." Poor Hermione still looked pretty confused by the strange, hyper boy.

"And I'm Luna Lovegood, I can't wait to see the Ssendam nest in Hogwarts."

Hermione jumped at the new voice. Somehow Luna had managed to slide into the compartment without her noticing.

"What are Ssendams? I didn't see any in the book of magical creatures." Ask Hermione in a nervous voice.

"They are rare creatures most can't see, that make people's eyes twinkle." answered Luna in her dreamy voice. Harry was sure that Luna had missed antagonizing Hermione with her mention of mythical creatures.

(Hermione's POV)

The conversation went on a while about creatures, and eventually they started talking about the courses in Hogwarts. Hermione was delighted to see that her two weird new friends were quite knowledgeable even though they tended to diverge toward less orthodox subjects. Finally the house system came up in the conversation.

"What house would you prefer?" Hermione ask hoping that her new friends and she would end up in the same house.

"Slytherin." Both of them responded at the same time.

All Hermione had read previously on the Slytherin house can back to her. The books said that Slytherins were clever, calculating and would use any mean to achieve their ends. Somehow, she did not expect her two new friends to want to be housed in a house with a reputation for being dark.

"And you?"Asked Harry seemingly oblivious to her internal turmoil.

"I thought the best house was Gryffindor. But that since I'm pretty bookish I'd do well in Ravenclaw." Hermione say timidly. She really didn't want to antagonize her first friends.

"Nonsense that!"Luna exclaimed in an abnormally assertive voice. "There's an Revelc colony in the Slytherin dorm. Therefore we absolutely have to live there!"

"Absolutely! Plus my favorite color is green."

Luna nodded sagely in accord with Harry's words as though they were the most coherent thing in the world. If Hermione had not had proof that they were in fact very intelligent she would have called them crazy. Instead, she just decided to meditate on their words and reconsider the Slytherin house.

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A/N: Hello again! You just read my third entry for this story. YAY! Flowers to you guys. I want reviews… PLEASE Harry is making puppy dog eyes at you. You know you want to leave me a review. Even flames are welcome, but they have to correct any spelling mistakes they can find though, everyone must be useful, don't you think?


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you see here. If I did … MOUHAHAHAHA… but I don't

A rumor spread through the train like wildfire: Harry Potter was on the train! A frantic search had been organized and the compartment searched. Meanwhile, the unsuspecting Hermione was still musing on the relative worth of the Slytherin house, while Luna and Harry read the Quibbler upside down.

(Ron's POV which means that italics are his thoughts)

I'm going the first to meet the boy-who-lived. Ron made his way quickly to the last compartment. All the other ones had been visited already, but for some obscure reason no one had though to visit this one. Ron could already picture it in his head. He barges in the compartment; present himself to the boy-who-lived; rescue him from the know-it-all and the crazy puppy dog eyes' boy; and they would become friends instantly. For years after, he would be known as the famous boy-who-lived's best friend.

Ron's plan was an amazing one, or so he thought. Part one went brilliantly. He burst into the compartment, in a dramatic entrance. But instead of finding the boy-who-lived-to-give-him-fame-and-money, he only saw the Nerd, the Weirdo and another Weirdo, wait… was that Luna Lovegood? Wasn't that freak 10? What the hell?!

"Luna Lovegood? What the hell are you doing here? Aren't you 10!?" Can't say that he wasn't a transparent guy, now can we…

Luna tilted her head a little before responding in her usual dreamy voice: "A Nargal told me to go to the ministry and take a test so that I could go to school one year in advance. The people from the ministry had to listen to the Nargals of course. Though they have a very bad infestation of Noroms, I hope your dad didn't bring the infestation home."

Ron stood speechless for an instant. Before once again, speaking his thoughts out loud. "The boy-who-lived was supposed to be here! This is the last compartment, he was supposed to be here, not you weirdoes!"

"Sorry you didn't find what you were looking for." said a pissed Hermione with an acidic sarcasm that would have made Snape proud. "But as you can see, or should see if your brain connections weren't so weak, we, that is Luna, Harry and I, are the only occupants of this compartment."

"Harry…" repeated a confused Ron out loud. You could almost see the connection being made, painfully slowly, in his brain. "as in Harry Potter?"

"Yop, that's my name. Why?" the boy-was-a-weirdo-but-who-could-still-bring-him-fame-and-fortune responded with a wide-eyed innocent look.

"YOU'RE HARRY POTTER!!" Ron yelled in disbelief.

"Ya,why?"

Ron felt like banging his head against the wall. His marvelous plan was in ruins. He had insulted Harry Potter. He would never become his best friend now that he had called Harry a weirdo. Wait, he's such a weirdo that he might not have noticed.

Sadly –or not – the hatching of Ron's new brilliant plan was interrupted as an aristocratic looking blond strode in, a snobbish girl on his arm, followed by two gorillas. Ronald easily recognized the boy for Draco Malfoy, the son of his father's nemesis, Lucius Malfoy. The color drained from his freckled face at the thought that Draco could steal his boy-who-lived-to-make-him-famous-and-rich-and-popular-with-girls away from him.

"Harry, that's Draco Malfoy. He's the son of a death eater." said Ron in an effort to steer Harry Potter from the young aristocrat.

"Really? Are death eaters like sword swallowers? I've always wanted to know how they did that!" squealed the hyper boy-who-lived-to-be-a-weirdo.

"No Harry you don't understand. The guy is dark! He is going to end up in Slytherin for sure!" Ron shouted in a desperate attempt to convince Harry Potter to stay the hell away from Draco Malfoy.

"Really? He most have heard about the Revelc colony." Loony Lovegood piped in.

"Yah, and about how green and silver are the official colors" the boy-who-lived-to-make-stupid-comment added.

"YOU!" Ron turned to the know-it-all in desperation. "You must know about how Slytherin is an evil house. Gryffindor is the best house, that's where Dumbledore was!"

Now, Ronald should have known better that to ask a still pissed Hermione for help. But he didn't and as a result Hermione finally made her mind up on her in current debate on houses.

"Slytherin is the house of the cunning, sly and ambition. Salazar Slytherin, the founder of the house, was a genius who rivaled Ravenclaw. Furthermore his discoveries were a lot more practical then hers. Luna, Harry and I chose that house. I guess it is good to know you won't be joining us"

"But you're a muggleborn! How could you ever think they would accept you!" Ron yelled viciously.

"A mudblood! How disgusting. A mudblood think it can be in the great house of Slytherin, completely grotesque. Don't you agree Draco?"Sniffed the snobbish girl.

Malfoy didn't answer for a second, seemingly lost in thoughts.

"Quaint perhaps." Draco supplied.

At his words, the know-it-all's face fell. Let's see if she likes Slytherin so much with all its members treating her like dirt.

But Draco wasn't finished. "It would be lovely to have a new face in the house. I fear I have known the pureblood families for too long. I'm enchanted to make your acquaintance. My name is Draco Malfoy and I would be delighted to guide you in the ways of the Slytherin" added Draco with a charming smile. He detached the snobbish girl from his arm; walk over to Hermione; and pressed her hand to his lips.

"Draco, she's… she's a MUDBLOOD!! Your father will hear about this if you don't come back by my side right now!" The banshee screeched.

"Hmm… I'm sure father will be delighted to hear from you, Pansy" was all the response Draco deigned to give to the threat.

An infuriated Pansy ran out of the compartment, paused, sent a glare at the gorillas (said gorillas didn't move a finger) motioned to the gorillas to follow her, and finally billowed her way down the corridor followed by very confused gorillas.

"A Weasley. How… interesting? I fear I have gone against too many prejudices for one day. Good day Weasley." With that the aristocrat pushed an astounded Ron out of the compartment and shut the doors to his face. A second later, Ron heard a distinct click.

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A/N: Draco arrived!! I would have made him arrive sooner. But Pansy wouldn't let me…

Now, REVIEW!! Please…

Next chapter: the gang might finally reach Hogwarts… or not… I have no control over this story. My beta has more control over it than I. You have more control over it than I do. Severus says that I'm not allowed to mess with stuff that are beyond my understanding and he insists that most things are. He's such a meanie. (I still love him though. But don't tell him)

Review!! REVIEW PLEASE… I only have 11 reviews for the 518 hits on the story… Please its 15 seconds of your time and the highlight of my day.

And don't forget to give a moment's worship to my Beta.


	5. Chapter 4: Round Two

**Disclaimer**: I asked Severus if I owned any of the characters in Harry Potter. He merely raised an eyebrow at me before going to find Harry to tell him the last stupidity I uttered. I don't own Harry Potter… sniff

**Spells are in bold**

_Thoughts are in italics_

**Beta:** Sesshy's Sannah the only reason this fic is even readable.

**_Chapter 4: ROUND TWO_**

(Harry's POV all italics are his thoughts)

Harry barely suppressed a chuckle at the look of pure adoration Draco wore as he observed Hermione. The object of the aristocrat's attention was reading a book, completely oblivious to her admirer. After Ron's sudden departure …

… _euphemism and sarcasm what would I do without you?_

Hermione had glanced once at Draco, blushed scarlet, and proceeded onto reading the Complete History of Hogwarts Graduates – which came with every 30 books bought. Harry guessed that the book had two main reasons to appeals to Hermione right now: 1) to avoid looking at the blond aristocrat and 2) making sure that her recently proclaimed choice in house was indeed the best one. Had Harry bothered to conjure a mirror right now he would not have been surprised if his expression mirrored Draco's. Even though Harry had never felt any kind of romantic feeling towards Hermione, he had still loved her more than anyone else in the world. Hermione had always been there for him. In his darkest moments, she had been there, always supporting, always caring. Seeing her here now…

…_Merlin Harry this is not the time to get sentimental. She here, she's alive and no one is ever going to hurt her again damn it!_

A soft smile appeared on Harry's face as he watched his old best friend tuck one of her frizzy locks behind her ear. This time around, he would be the one taking care of her.

As the train passed Hogsmead, the occupants of the compartment pulled on their uniform over their muggle clothes. Harry was still paranoid enough to be very fond of the idea of being able to throw off his cumbersome robe and fight in more flexible, practical clothing. Of course muggle clothing wasn't the best either …but he was working on that. As for the other occupants, well Draco and Luna had long been converted to Harry's ideas in paranoia, even though Luna insisted that she was just wearing the muggle clothing because it stopped Tuls bites. As for Hermione, she simply followed the example given by her new friends, and, anyways, she was way more comfortable with her normal clothes under the wizard robes.

As the train came to a stop and the door slid open, a booming voice reached Harry's melancholic ear. Hagrid was alive and well.

_I'm back. And this time we will all make it through, this I swear._

Harry snatched himself from his melancholic mood, and put on his hyper and innocent face; adjusting his eyes to the perfect width to achieve the puppy dog eye look. As he turned to Luna and Draco, a maniacal gleam flickered through their eyes.

They won't know what hit them.

The bell is sounding, round two is starting. This time they'll be the ones left crying.

HPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLLHPDMLL

As the doors of the great hall opened majestically revealing its breathtaking interior… the first years finally remembered to breathe. Looks of awe were exchanged as they stole their first glance at the magical ceiling. The first years listened in wonder as the sorting hat sang his prejudiced song. Who's the genius who thought a hat designed by Gryffindor wasn't going to be condescending to the other houses? While the 11 year olds were listening to the song with (insert here diverse synonyms of the word awe), Harry was gazing at old friends long dead, Draco was back to observing Hermione –no wait that's wrong he never stopped observing Hermione-, and Luna… well Luna was gazing dreamily into space. Harry could only shudder imagining what she was thinking.

Harry listened carefully to the sorting, watching for any difference. None came until Hermione's turn. Instead of last time's swift placement in Gryffindor, time dragged on as Hermione and the Hat argued. Finally, just when the whispers were changing from curious to frustrated, the Hat let out a in a tired, vanquished voice: "Slytherin."

With a smug smile, Hermione went to sit at the Slytherin table. The Slytherins whispered and sneered down at her. A bit put out, Hermione bravely made her way to the empty far end of the table.

Harry couldn't remember Luna's first sorting as he had been busy stupidly flying a car when he should have been calmly explaining the situation to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He watched in amusement as Luna placed the Hat delicately on her head. Luna's dreamy features didn't change as a look of extreme confusion fell upon the Hat. Finally, the Hat let out a relieved : "Slytherin." Harry guessed that Luna had decided to stop torturing the Hat with her chaotic thought pattern and handed him her choice.

Draco's second sorting was certainly different. Instead of walking in a boyish imitation of a conquering manner, Draco matched briskly to the Hat; flung it on; and went to sit next to Hermione before the word Slytherin started to echo. Harry chuckled at his friend's impatience; mentally cheering him on.

Whispers broke out once again when the boy-who-lived's name was called. Harry put on his very best innocent and pure puppy face and strolled happily to the stool.

"You've already…"

_Let's skip this Hat. I've done this before. I received a Hogwarts' letter therefore you must sort me. You cannot inform the Headmaster or anyone else of the situation because of privacy spell Gryffindor had the courtesy to install. Therefore you will place me in Slytherin. NOW!_

Harry left a trembling Hat to recover as he happily made his way to the Slytherin table, puppy dog eyes still in place. For a second the hall fell silent. Looking at the Head Table, Harry saw the revered Headmaster look suspiciously like a fish out of water. Glancing at the resident potion master, Harry barely suppressed a snigger. Snape looked as though Bellatrix had just said something sane. _This is going to be fun._

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A/N: So we finally reached Hogwarts. Sorry if this chapter was a bit overly serious, but Harry was melancholic at seeing his home. At the moment when I'm writing this I've got 1076 hits… but merely 19 reviews… You want to make me happy don't you? Leave a review at the sound. DING!

For those lovely people who did review, thanks you've made my day.

A special mention to SuperLuna/Sarah/SuperLunu-slash for all her nice reviews. You get the most cookies.

Sev says I should shut up now and go to bed. Night Night.


	6. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: **_I was still confused after Severus' reaction to my question, so I went and asked Draco if I own Harry Potter and/or its characters. He said I quote: "We own you not the other way around." Well I don't mind too much being owned, if Severus is my owner...

_Italics are thoughts_

**Bolds are spells**

_**Chapter 5: **_

**(Snape's POV)**

_Potter has been sorted in my house. Potter - the bloody clone of James Potter - has been sorted in my house. Potter - James Potter's clone; the boy-who-lived-to-somehow-kill-the-most-powerful-dark-lord-in-centuries; who looked like a five year old hyper on sugar - had been sorted into my house. Oh dear Merlin. _

Those were the thoughts of a very depressed and confused Potion Master. He had been dreading the arrival of James Potter's spawn, but this... this was just unimaginable. The resident potion master brooded in silence while picking at his food. Slowly, he came to terms with the new addition to his house. After all, James Potter was probably rolling in his grave by now. Of course this did not mean that Snape thought that the child was going to be worth the air he breathed. _Well, a puppy dog eyed Potter in my house... let's see how the arrogant spoiled brat will do in the snake pit._ A satisfied smirk appeared on his face, before turning into a nasty scowl as the school song began in the most discordant tunes. He sneered in disgust when the sound of The Brat singing the Hogwarts song to the tune of some kindergarten song reached his ears. The only silver lining was that his godson was not participating to the cacophony.

As soon as the Headmaster released them from his presence, Snape strode out of the Great Hall cape billowing majestically behind him - or you could say he fled from the crazy twinkling sugar addict at the staff table; first years chasing after him. A dozen of staircases, dusty corridors and hidden doorways later, found the bat of the dungeons and a group of panting first years in front of the portrait of a snake. With a whispered "Mythic" they were granted access to the viper's nest.

The severe Spartan interior restored Snape's calm; this was his territory. Contrarily to the other heads of house, he did not let his prefects simply direct the first years to their dorm on the first night. Regardless of its newest members, the house of Slytherin was a great house. Ambitious, yes; dark, certainly; evil, sometimes; but more importantly Slytherin was a powerful house. The only house who somehow managed to hold its own against three other houses. Whatever happened Slytherins lived on.

When the first years were finally seated, he spoke.

"I do not suffer from the delusion that you brats are any less idiotic that the rest of the first years. In some cases, you are perhaps better bred, but others" Snape paused and sneered down at Potter - who smiled brightly back at him, eyes twinkling. Snape restrained himself from shuddering at the sight of another pair of twinkling eyes... _Salazar, I hate twinkles! _... and continued his speech. "might as well have been raised by animals for all the grace they exhibit." A chuckle was heard coming from Parkinson; the girl was looking condescendingly at a bushy head witch who sat next to Potter.

"Being sorted in Slytherin means more than just wearing green and silver..." Snape failed to notice the amused smirk exchanged between a certain dreamy blond and the Potter-brat. "it means living up to our standards of excellence. You are expected to rise to a high social position when you leave Hogwarts. Here you will be trained to achieve the highest goals. Every Saturday and Sunday, special mandatory training sessions will be dispensed in the common room by your prefects. You might have heard that I do not take points from my own house. While that rumor might not be entirely ill-founded, you should expect draconian punishments were you to disappoint me." The potion master's voice had dropped to a barely perceptible whisper; the room suddenly felt colder.

"As for your living quarters, the rooms contain for bed each. Spells have been placed to prevent any distasteful activities..." The threat in the head of house's voice was clear: curses had been placed; culprits would find themselves fearing the word sex for the rest of their existence. In Snape's mind, the curses served two purposes: stopping teenagers from disgracing their families and by effectively traumatizing the culprit, limiting the numbers of the next generation of dunderheads. "Welcome to Hogwarts." As the last a wave of sarcasm washed over the petrified eleven year olds, Snape turned sharply and exited the common room. His mind brewing plans for the torture of the younger twinkling thorn in his foot.

**(Harry's POV)**

Harry barely restrained himself from exploding with laughter at the expanse of the petrified first years; he settled for jumping up and down while pulling Hermione's sleeve. This treatment finally snapped her out of her petrified state. Harry then proceeded to drag her across the room and into the corridor of bedchambers. He poked his head in each -all the while dragging Hermione- and finally decided on the one at the end of the corridor. He at last released Hermione and started to jump on his new bed. After a few vain attempts to speak to Harry, Hermione sat on the floor in silent contemplation. Harry knew it was cruel to ignore her, but he had to wait for reinforcements before he could speak with her.

A few minutes later, Draco strode in the room as though he owned the place. _Then again, he always looks as though he owns the place. He once made me feel like an unwelcome visitor in my own house, for Merlin's sake! _Draco eyes searched the room, before settling on Hermione. The blond aristocrat went to sit on the bed next to where she was sitting.

"So the reason for the awkward silence here is?" Asked Draco.

"Waiting for Luna!" Answered the apparently hyper Harry.

"Who is this Luna that is not here? The Nargles have not told me about her." Asked Luna in her usual dreamy voice; Luna, who was currently sitting on the bed by Harry's; Luna, who Harry had not seen arrived. _And she wonders why I am paranoid..._

"Oh Luna, you are here, wonderful. Let's proceed then." Said Draco completely ignoring the question of how exactly she had arrived. Harry thought that he had the right tactic: ignore the weird stuff and expect anything at anytime from Luna. "Does this bedding arrangement satisfy everyone?"

"Eh... shouldn't we only share room with others of the same gender?" asked a blushing Hermione.

"Aren't we friends! I thought we were friends. Don't you want to be my friend?" Asked Harry while making a very good imitation of a crying puppy with a shaking lower lip. Hermione reached a hand to appease the poor poor boy, but was interrupted by Luna.

"No of course not, the Sdneirfruoy would not want that! They might think you are rejecting them. Merlin knows those creatures are needy." Now, Hermione looked lost and a bit upset. She seemed to want to point out why unisex dormitories where better, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Draco put the final nail in the coffin.

"Furthermore, it is only logical share your bedroom with trustworthy people. It would be dangerous to allow others the possibility of harming you in your sleep. Plus, you do not have to worry about Harry or I doing anything untoward to you. I'm sure you'll agree that Harry would never think of such a thing." Draco dismissed the possibility with a vague gesture in Harry's general direction. "As for I, though I must admit a weakness to beauty, I would never do anything improper." The blond aristocrat took Hermione's hand in his and brought it to his lips. "Hermione, I sincerely hope you can find it in you to trust me." By this point, Hermione was Gryffindor red and quickly nodded.

_Getting all of us to share a room: check. _

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A/N: I'm back. I am defeated the sickness that was terracing me and came back from the grave to write more insanity. It is not up to my usual standards but since I haven't updated in a while I figure that I might as well go with it. I hope you enjoyed. Chocolate and flowers for my reviewers. More review means a happier Ellyanah and faster updates (though that is not too good for my school work, but who cares) :)

Everyone worship my beta!

Now click on the left right corner. REVIEW


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I asked Luna if I owned Harry Potter. In response, she explained to me the meaning of life. It makes so much more sense now. But apparently I don't own Harry Potter.

**Beta**: Sesshy's Sannah, the reason that you may read this without bagning your head against the nearest wall.

_**Chapter 6:**_

**(Snape's POV)**

Unsurprisingly, first week had been hell. The dunderheads that passed for students seemed to be competing to outdo each other in stupidity. The students coming back from holidays seemed to have forgotten what little information he had been able to drill into their heads in the past years. He had wasted entire evenings trying to correct - or more precisely decipher - their summer essays. Essays that frankly could have been written by trolls judging by the level of knowledge, English capacity and insight his students had shown.

As for the new students... not only were they not able to distinguish a wand from a common piece of wood, but this year he would have to deal with Him in his house. So, unsurprisingly, Snape was in one hell of a mood when he entered the first year Gryffindor/ Slytherin class - and for once his scorn was directed towards a Slytherin - who was gazing happily back at him... Resisting the temptation to shudder, the potion master started taking the register.

"Harry Potter" He said in a deadly soft tone. He paused to look at the infernal brat, and was about to throw a fittingly acidic comment when the boy... winked at him?

Confused and more than a little disturbed, Snape forgot to place the remark and continued to call the roll, while a twinkling pair of emeralds eyes looked on merrily. To make up for the previous slip, Snape tried to make his beginning of the year speech even more menacing. His velvet voice was darker as he intoned:

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making." As he spoke he glared at the silent class. The Gryffindors seemed suitably intimidated, as his gaze fell on his snakes, he meet the pest's happy gaze who stared unblinkingly back at him. His scowl deepening, he continued. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of the softly shimmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death - if you weren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I normally teach." At those words he looked pointedly towards Harry, and Parkinson and Weasley snickered. As for Potter he had the audacity to wink -again - at his professor.

To say that Severus Snape was angry by this point would be an exercise in euphemism better left to Dumbledore and his like. The muscles at the back of the potion master's neck were cramping up and his already pale lips were now a ghostly white. A smirk twisted his mouth when an idea on how to bring down the hyper-winking-puppy-eyes-brat came to him.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Well professor... I don't know..." a victorious look flash into the eyes of the bat of the dungeon, ... then Harry deemed fit to finish his sentence. "what answer you wish me to tell you. If you add the powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood and then add arsenic then you get a powerful poison, I call it the Draught of Dead Death, though I guess you could still just use the arsenic if you want to kill someone... but then it doesn't have the cool name, so it's far less interesting. But if you mean the more obvious, less fun alternative substance that can be made with those ingredients, then I'd say the Draught of Living Death."

Snape winced internally before putting the Draught of Dead Death on the list of things he would like to do the Potter-brat.

"Potter where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar."

" I'd look in you potion cabinet."

"Well, Mister Potter, it seems fame is not everything..."

"... or I could just slaughter a goat and open the bloody remains so that I can look into its carcass and find the stone in its stomach. Whatever suits your fancy. I personally thought that the second one was more messy -you know how hard blood is to remove from clothing - but I have to concede that it's the funnier option." Somehow, Potter managed to perfectly look the 6 year old, innocent, wide-eyed kid while stating that.

So Snape's victory smirk turned to a nasty scowl, as he mentally added 'to disembowel the pest-who-live-to-annoy-him' on his checklist.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfbane?" by now Severus was mentally crossing his figures in hope that the boy would not be able to respond to that question, for if he did, he would have to respect the boy at least a tiny bit: this was fifth year material after all.

"Well, you see sir... the difference is that one can be found if you asked a muggle where it is, and the other one can be found if you ask a wizard where it is. Plus the name wolfbane sounds way better than the name monkshood. Though I personally prefer the name aconite. Moreover, that name would be recognized in both muggle and wizard world so I guess it is also the more practical name."

Firewhisky sure sounds good right about now. Severus could not believe that the brat had managed to answer all his questions. He desperately clung to the fact that Harry could have cheated... somehow... This unrealistic hope stabilized him enough for his persona to stay in place.

"Detention, tonight at 8pm, Potter, for your cheek." Of course, the Head of Slytherin would not take points from his own house, but what harm could a detention do to his house? Of course, he would have time to regret that particular decision later... Contrary to Snape's expectation the pest did not protest. He merely smiled larger and winked at the - now very disturbed - professor.

The lesson passed in the usual way for a first first year's class... which meant too many explosions to count, and even more tongue-lashings, which the potion master was generous in handing out. Near the end of the class, Snape was going around commenting on everyone's potions. The Griffindors were a complete disaster, the lot of them. Luckily his Slytherins were doing better. As expected from his godson, his potion was excellent, even though he had somehow been paired with the muggleborn. He was about to make an acerbic comment on Potter's potion when he noticed two things 1) the brat's potion was perfect, not excellent: perfect! But of course that would not have stopped him normally if not for the second thing: 2) the brat and his partner - an eccentric witch with radish earrings - were looking at him with an adoring/merry/far away look/(scary) expression on there faces. Severus thought that a tactical retreat was in order. He turned on his heels, robes billowing behind him.

He did not see Miss Lovegood and Mister Potter exchange high fives, twin smirks on their face, that clearly stated: Slytherin.

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**A/N:** Remember me? Author's block... sorry about the LONG wait. Today (which is now a week ago as I post this) I was very upset (screwed up at my job) so I felt like writing again so ta-da new chapter. So I guess you can be happy that I was miserable... hihi. There's always a silver lining right? Seriously reviews make me feel guilty for not updating so review and I'll update faster.)

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	8. Chapter 7: A letter and an essay

_Italics are thoughts_

**Bolds** are spells or stuff you I want you to notice like change in POVs.

**_Disclaimer:_** **...** is all I have to say on that topic.

_**  
Chapter 7: A letter and an essay**_

**  
A/N:** At one point of the story I placed a (1), this is to refer to you to a footnote. It is a flashback and is part of the universe of the story but you do not have to read it.

**(Hermione's POV)  
**  
_"Dear Mom and Dad,_

_First week has been interesting to say the least._

_I have been sorted into Slytherin, which is the house for the ambitious and cunning. You might be surprised by this sorting since I told you that Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were better houses. But in fact, great wizards and witches came from Slytherin, ... plus my friends wanted to be Slytherins. So when faced with the sorting hat I... convinced him to put me in Slytherin. He put up a fight at first, but I persuaded him that I would do fine in Slytherin with my friends._

_Yes mother, my friends! I met Harry, Luna and Draco on the train. Harry and Luna can be a bit... eccentric at times, but they are really brilliant! Currently Harry is in detention with Professor Snape - the potions master and our head of house- even though Harry answered all of the professor's questions correctly, ...though I guess he said some weird things... but that is just how Harry acts. Luna is drawing bizarre symbols all around our room, not my idea of decoration but they are rather pretty in an unusual way. And Draco is in our wardrobe, he said he would enlarge it to fit all our things - I told you my friends were geniuses; I still do not have a clue how to do that... I will have to ask Draco later. I forgot to mention that we all share a room. Please do not think that is bizarre. Draco convinced me that it would it would be safer that way, apparently some people don't like muggleborns. Do not worry about that either mom, I'm used to being teased, plus here I have friends -can you believe it?_

_I really like learning more about magic; there is so much to learn. My friends and I are always the first to finish the exercises, though Harry and Luna tend to make weird things happen, even Draco had an incident yesterday. "_

**(FLASHBACK)**

Hermione was quite nervous when she entered the charms class for the first time. She had judged that Charms was one of the three most important subjects in her magical study, along with Transfiguration and Potions. Harry was skipping ahead of her and jumped into a seat near the door as was his habit; Luna was reading a copy of the Quibbler upside down and sat gracefully next to Harry; and Draco was at her right trying to make her relax. The class filled out quickly, the Gryffindors sitting on the left side of the class while the Snakes took the right.

Flitwick started the class by taking the attendance. When he reached Harry's name he fell from his pile of books with a squeak. Hermione looked over at Harry, wondering how he would react. Her first friend was smiling, his eyes twinkled, but something in his appearance told of melancholy. Hermione was at a loss as to why, and swore to herself to keep an eye on the boy.

The charms professor thought the theory behind the **Wingardium Leviosa**, a levitation spell. Harry and Luna were talking excitably about something, if Hermione had to hazard a guess she would say they were talking about the Relddemdlo, which dominated their conversation for a while. As for Draco, he was scribbling something frantically. She would have loved to look, but she didn't want to appear nosy. When Flitwick gave them the go ahead to practice, Hermione concentrated all her effort on the feather. After a few tries she succeeded; the feather was hovering above her desk. She looked then looked at Draco to see if he needed help. He was still scribbling notes, his feather remaining on his desk. She was about to tactfully suggest her help when a mocking cackle reached her from her left.

"See! Her feather floats while theirs are still on the desks! The only reason they keep her around is for her brain. The know-it-all probably does all their homework and will let them cheat off her later. Look at Malfoy, taking notes desperately, he's too stupid to get it!"

When Ron mentioned Draco, Hermione looked over at the blond. He had finally taken his wand and seemed to be concentrating on his feather. Luckily he did not seem to have overhead the conversation.

"No wonder he decided to take a muggleborn as his servant. She probably does more than do his homework too..."

Hermione reddened at the implication of those words and felt tears begin to sting her eyes. Still watching Draco, she saw him speak the incantation, doing the wand movement perfectly. But the feather did not move an inch, instead from her left came a girly scream followed by loud thump. Ron's head had just hit the ceiling. His body lowered a bit before shooting up again and hitting the roof. Somehow this occurrence repeated itself quite a number of times.

Flitwick instructed Draco to try and lower Ron to the ground. Sadly, when Draco tried, Ron fell at an unnatural speed and hit the ground, hard. The small professor had send him to the infirmary. Draco had been so distressed that his eyes had shined.

**(END OF FLASHBACK)**

_"Poor Draco, he is so compassionate, even though Ron is a bit of a jerk if you ask me. My teachers are great too. Though Professor Snape can be a little intimidating. Poor Harry I hope he is doing all right in detention..."_

**(Harry POV)**

Hermione need not worry. Down in the dungeons, Harry was looking gleefully at the back of his potions master.

He had been assigned a six foot essay on the proprieties of numerous ingredients. Any normal eleven year old would have needed a week to come up with a passable answer. But since Harry was a 42 year old with a fascination towards potions, his essay had been written in 20 minutes, ... and he probably should not mention that ten of them were spent putting in disturbing details for his dear professor. He had enjoyed himself immensely during his first potions class. His goal as he had entered the class was that of taking revenge on the man that had made him hate potions for years. But somewhere along the way, it had stopped being about revenge and started being about breaking through Snape's persona. He was highly amused to find that a mere wink unbalanced him. And seeing that Snape could not seem to bear a Potter being competent in potions gave Harry all the motivation he needed to do brilliantly in the subject.

Thus, Harry watched his professor with a predatory look, all the while planning his next move. Severus might have sensed the wicked stare for he turned on his heels at that moment, robes billowing around him, a scowl firmly in place. The glare met a rapidly growing, gleeful grin. Crossing his arms sternly/defensively, the potions master looked down his long nose at the Harry - who stared back. During the staring contest, Harry made used of his favorite wandless spell... making his eyes twinkle more and more (1) . He was in the midst of debating whether or not to wink at his professor when Snape spoke:

"Potter, however much you may find me fascinating, please refrain from ogling me, and return to the assigned essay." Clearly, Snape expected Harry to blush and go back shamefully to his essay. Then again, Snape thought he was facing an innocent eleven year old, which Harry was most definitively not. So instead Harry put on his best innocent smile.

"But Sir, my essay is finished. Does this mean that I am free to ogle you for the remainder of my detention?"

_Did he just shudder?_

"Potter, I was apparently mistaken when I thought that you would grasp the simple concept of listing a few ingredients and their properties." Snape announced with a slow deliberate voice. His sneer grew as he continued. "I, now, see that you most certainly inherited the Potter brain. I apologize. I shall not make that error again. Now, Potter, you will list the properties of the ingredients written on the board. All the properties, Potter. I do not expect that your work will be up to par with that of a mountain troll, but do try to complete it."

"My essay is complete sir." Replied Harry with a bright smile, internally anticipating his professor's reaction to his essay.

Snape picked up the parchment with two fingers. He held it away from body, as though the potential stupidity there could somehow infect him. Of course, it couldn't, though Harry dutifully added it to his list of potential pranks.

"Arrogant like your father, I see. Well Potter..." the stream of insults that Snape likely intended to follow were forgotten as Snape began to read the parchment.

Harry watched as several emotions passed quickly on Severus' face, confusion and disgust amongst them. The dreaded bat of the dungeons turned away from Harry and slowly made his way towards his desk, still reading the parchment. For several minutes, the potions master stood with his back to Harry, in all appearance reading the essay that was now being held on the desk by a potion-stained hand. Harry could see the muscles of his back tense and his neck cramp up as the minutes passed. The boy-who-lived was fearing that he had broken his new toy when a low gruff voice resounded softly into the silent room.

"Potter, you may leave." Harry was disturbed to notice that the voice lacked its usual cutting quality, and he was even more disturbed upon becoming aware that he was worrying for the man he had loathed throughout his school days.

As the door closed behind Harry, he thought he head the sound of something hitting wood.

* * *

**(1) The Origin of The Twinkling Spell**

**  
(Flashback)**

The twinkling spell was another fruitful result of a drunken night in Draco Malfoy's company. Reminiscing about the old days, as was their habit when smashed -Draco was a melancholic drunk - they toppled onto the subject of their deceased headmaster. Somehow, somewhere along the way, (Harry strongly suspected that Luna, though absent at the time, had something to do with them discussing that particular topic) they had started discussing why the old goat's eyes twinkled.

Multiple theories were proposed, when finally the pair each chose a favorite reason. Draco's drunken, cynical mind came up with the idea that it was a warning given by Dumbledore's magic to signal that the old man was crazy. Harry disagreed, for his own drunken, bitter mind proposed that the dried up puppet master used a wandless spell to make his eyes twinkle, as part of his guise of a trustworthy old confidant.

The argument was at a stalemate when Draco argued that it was simply impossible to wandlessly create and sustain twinkles. The boy-who-lived-to-do-the-impossible took it at a challenge and a few instants later, his eyes sported noticeable twinkles.

The following morning, they were awakened with by a loud "bang", as Luna apparated in the living room, cruelly making a thousand times more noise than necessary. As Harry opened bloodshot eyes, Luna announced that he would be teaching her how to make her eyes twinkle. When the hangovered Harry asked why he would do that when a nap sounded so much better, Luna had replied that the Nargles had told her so. With a resigned sigh and a pounding headache, Harry had complied immediately knowing better than to argue with that argument. Draco had thrown him a sympathetic look before making a tactical retreat, the Slytherin also knew better than to oppose the blond whenever she mentioned Nargles.

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**A/N:** After discussing with Sesshy's Sannah -my beta - future details of the story, I could not wait to continue. So I wrote this chapter even though the last one is not posted yet. (It is being corrected, which takes time if you consider that more words are misspelled than spelled correctly. It is thanks to her work that you can read and not decipher this story.) This is my longest chapter yet. Hurray! And if you want the next chapter soon, I would strongly consider reviewing because I tend to become lazy and unmotivated really fast without proper motivation/reviews. nudge, nudge, wink, wink REVIEW


	9. Chapter 8: Fly Monkey, Fly

**A/N: **I UPDATED!! YAY! Sadly this chapter is unbetaed so far. My amazing beta is presently busy, I promise that as soon as she corrects it, I'll post the corrected version.

**Warning: Unbetaed chapter! Beware evil gramar and spelling mistakes of a Frenchie.**

**Disclaimer: **Let us be serious for a moment... No? Ok... Want to go plot against Ron instead? I do not own Harry Potter, otherwise Ron would have ended up dead instead of with a brilliant witch.

_Italics are thoughts_  
**Bolds are spells**

**Chapter 8: Fly Monkey, Fly**

**  
(Draco's POV)**

The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement, annoying the Slytherin prince. Today the first years were to have their first flying class. And like the first time around, this insignificant event led the first years to rival in idiotic imaginary tales of past flying "feats", - Draco even overheard a Gryffindor boasting that he had somehow outrun an helicopter. Draco let out an exasperated sight, quickly followed by a sadistic smirk as he pictured the Gryffindor being lacerated and cut to pieces by the deadly blades. Sadly the macabre thought only gave him a short respite from the incessant noise, though he found consolation by joining a discussion on dimension traveling. Luna was presently trying to convince Hermione that the Nargles had the key to traveling through time and space, which Hermione firmly opposed, making Harry's eyes twinkle with barely suppressed mirth.

As they spoke, Draco's temper took a turn for the better. Of course, it help that at the Slytherin table, the snakes were more discrete. Some like Zabini and Greenhouse were too well-educated in the arts of diplomacy to make such a tactless boast. Others could not afford to extend the mental capacity to invent a lie. Some were simply not interested in the exercise, indeed preferring to apply their creativity in discussing the possibility of dimension traveling. And the remainder could not boast. Not that they lacked the intention or the will to do so. Nor were they prevented by any sense of propriety, or ability - though one would rightly question their mental capacity. What kept the Slytherin table - and more importantly Draco's ears - from being plague with fabricated lies were convenient silencing spells.

Now, while the nobler minds might wonder how two first years came to be silenced in such way, so early in their schooling, and as the less noble minds bubble with explanations they would oh so gladly share with the nobler spirits, Draco's mind already held the answer - which was quite logical considering that he was the one at the origin of the curse.

The previous night, Parkinson and Nott had tried to enter the Loony Den -as the Boy-who-lived-to-go-into-an-evil-house's dorm was commonly known around the donjon - with the intention of cursing it's residents, when they had come upon a terrifying sight... an eleven year old Harry, sitting cross-legged on the floor, maniac grin plastered on his face, and emerald eyes twinkling brightly. The mental image was enough to make Draco shudder in remembrance. Unfortunately for the would-be-cursers, they did not think the sight terrifying -and did not do the only sensible thing, which was running for their miserable lives. Instead they opted for entering deeper into the snake pit, with the firm intention of terrifying the non-typical Slytherin into cowering before them.

When Draco was finally awaken by corpse rising screams, the two would-be-aggressors were hanging upside down, eyes wide in terror as snakes bit the air menacingly inches from their face. Draco had taken one good look at the scene, had seen his -now eleven- old drinking partner, and had cast a quick silencing spell on the paranoid-insomniac's victim, ... and had rolled over going back to sleep in instants... Practice makes perfect..

DMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHG

_"Well isn't this pleasant..."_ was Draco's sarcastic thought as he waited utterly bored broom in hand. While the rest of the class was almost jumping out of their skin in excitement or fear, Draco was impatiently waiting for the class to be over and done with. What was the point in standing next to a broom, doing absolutely nothing? If he was in class instead, he could help out Hermione or plot, or even better find ways to torture Ron without rupturing the "Don't-Kill-Ron" clause. Of course if you asked him, the clause was quite pointless, Draco could make it look like an accident... though it was certainly less appealing, the notion that the redhead would be dead would surely compensate.

Still utterly bored, Draco casted a disinterested glance at his year-mates. They seemed so young, so innocent, so utterly untainted... so unscarred. A wave of disgust washed over him, his lip threatening to curl into a snarl. Even the first time around, he had been scarred, tainted, never so young nor innocent. Looking at his fellow time travelers he remembered clearly how their scars had brought them together. Their Taint had pushed them to unite. Gryffindor's golden boy, the Slytherin Prince, and the Loony Raven; who could have thought of a more unlikely trio? All three had betrayed expectations, as they broke free of the chains the stereotypes and expectations of the masses had fastened upon them.

A sad smile gifted Draco's lips, as he remembered the beginning of their friendship. It had all seemed so weird to him, so fresh, so disturbing and so... normal? Somehow, the time spent with his friends always seemed to flow so calmly, even in the mist of the hurricane that had been their last years at Hogwarts. Somewhere, without any distinct transition, Luna's insane brilliance, and Harry's heroic paranoia, had become to feel like Home. Not that he had a home to compare it to, but that only seemed to make the three of them fit more perfectly together, three cast off piece of an abandoned puzzle.

Madam Hooch's sharp instructions pierced through his reminiscing. With practiced ease he left the ground. A smile graced his face as he saw Luna sitting cross-legged on her broom, in a bizarre feat of balance, eyes unfocused. The smile slowly stretched as he caught the sight of an apparently hyper-Harry, making quick lops around Hogwarts' brightest bookworm. It seemed that his old friend had taken upon himself the mission of making Hermione at ease in the sky. _"... and she could not have chose a better professor."_ Draco had never seen someone who defied gravity with more skill nor ease that his friend. Even now, he showcased his skill, as he touched Neville lightly while passing him during his orbit around Hermione. This was the third time that Draco had seen him repeat the gesture. It seemed that Harry had no intention of letting Neville break a wrist today. Each time he passed him, he would make sure that Neville position was correct, and if not he would adjust it with a feather light touch, all the while making insane comments to make Hermione laugh.

As Draco looped around two - still silenced - fuming Slytherin, who were desperately to hold on to their broom, his lip twitched in amusement. _"Perhaps this day wasn't so bad after all."_ And when he a loud crashing sound reached his ears, his eyes captured an image that bloomed a true smile on his face. Ron was lying ungracefully on the dirt, his arm at a weird angle, as he cursed unimaginatively at the Slytherins. Draco might have taking offence at the undeserved accusation -indeed he had restrained himself from flinging the weasel off his broom, frightened that the fall might accidently brake his miserable neck and rupture the "Don't-Kill-Ron-Now" clause - if he had not noticed a dangerous glint in Luna's eye as she gazed dreamily at the scene.  
_"Not a bad day indeed... "_

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**  
A/N: **Somehow I have managed to finish writing this chapter. I want to apologize to all the reviewers who I told I would update soon. I TRIED... sniff... I just could not write it. I think I rewrote the stupid chapter 4 time. GAH. Total writer's block. But HERE. I updated.  
On a more positive note: I HAVE 100 reviews! Happy. Seriously you guys are the only reason I kept struggling to get this chapter out, otherwise I think I would just have given up. So thanks guys.


	10. Chapter 9: Of the horrors of Detentions

**Disclaimer: Seriously if I were a renowned author I would have to learn how to spell first…**

**Warning: Unbeta-ed chapter ahead, written by a French Canadian with no talent in spelling.**

_**A/N: When you see a number it is a endnote so look at the end of the chapter.**_

**Chapter 9: The Horrors of Detentions**

**(Snape's POV)**

Deep down in the bowels of the labyrinths that formed the Hogwarts' dungeons, a pounding sound echoed disturbing the dusty calm.

The sound could find its origin deeper in the subterranean maze, through corridors so remote, a thick layer of dust had built, only ever disturbed by a pair of feet. Down one of the ancient hallways, through a massive ebony door, a dark chamber laid. Inside, Hogwarts' potion master nursed a headache with dark medicine.

The typically rigid and stoic man sat boneless, his head resting heavily on the palm of his potion stained hand; alternatively smashing his head against his hard ebony desk, and taking swings of a brownish liquid. A deep sigh resonated through the chamber as the memory of the horrendous day invaded his mind once again.

**(FLASHBACK)**

Nothing in the obnoxious, cloudy day had warned Snape that the day would be worst than usual. In fact, the day had started out rather well as the modified wolfbane potion had finished simmering and had turned out perfect… Snape should have known that no day in the triple-cursed castle would ever turn out remotely well.

After hours of preventing mindless idiotic dunderheads from blowing themselves to smithereens; watching as they wasted precious, hand harvested, ingredients in their cretinous "efforts", Snape had awaited the ban of his existence in his classroom. Somehow the little menace had managed to land himself, yet again, in detention. Apparently, one detention a week was not enough for the attention-seeking brat. Perhaps, the boy was looking to outdo his idiotic father in his area of expertise, while his deranged little mind (how else could he explain a Potter among the Slytherins) was under the impression that it was an achievement to earn two detentions before even stepping foot in his second potion class. How else could he explain that Potter had chosen to crash into him at a run, while carrying a bouquet of flowers, leaving the potion master covered in flower and pollen, a red rose intertwined in his hair. Needless to say the potion master was livid as he shredded the Potter spawn with well-chosen words. At some point during the tirade, the words "detention Friday after super" might have escaped him.

Since then his mind had made contortion around itself trying to find a suitable punishment for Potter, while avoiding a repeat of last detention's debacle. Snape still shuddered in remembrance of the Essay. It was the work of a thoroughly twisted – though brilliant – brain. There was no denying that the Essay revealed true knowledge of the subject. Which led to the question: how in the name of Salazar had Potter had access to such a mind. Surely he had used some sort of communication device. The idea that Potter could have used it without outside help was simply inconceivable. _There was no way that the cursed-attention-seeking-brat could…_ As he uttered the thought, the idea for the perfect detention hit him. What better way to tort… cruci... … punish a Potter than to deprive him of the attention he so desperately sought?

-include here evil laughter-

SSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHP

The detention had not started off well.

It was an accepted fact that Snape's potion classroom was the scariest room in the castle, the mythic chamber of secret held the second place, but was no close rival. Generations of Hogwarts' graduates who had had the unfortunate fortune of studying under England's best potion master, blanched in fear at its mere mention. But as in many, Many, things, it would appear as though Harry Potter had not received the memo.

The insufferable brat had had the audacity of entering the class skipping, … while whistling a happy tune (1). To make matters worst, when Snape had ordered him to sit, employing his darkest tone, the insolent-brat-who-survived-to-continue-the-hellish-Potter-family had flashed him his brightest smile, before winking at him and skipping merrily to a seat in the front row. To say that the potion master had been incensed would be like saying that Dumbledore had a little bit of a sweat tooth.

Not to be discouraged, though a bit disturbed, the spymaster had stalked to his desk and proceeded to begin his plan. A scowl marred his face as he corrected the idiotic rambling of the dunderheads he had the displeasure of calling students. For an hour, his red quill went on a rampage, covering parchment after parchment in acerbic remarks, tearing through their thought process, ripping at their vocabulary, piercing whole in their theories; seeing that this was the only revenge he could take for making him suffer through their ineptitude.

At some point a particularly stupid comment reminded him of the brat who was currently serving detention with him. He had completely forgotten about the boy. His unease at the thought was rapidly replaced by dark satisfaction. If it had been his plan to ignore the boy, certainly it was mission accomplish, surely the boy was squirming by now.

Snape slowly raised his head to look at the boy, ready for anything. The class was too quiet; for the menace to be this silent, he was either asleep, dead or had fled the class long ago. Each possibility warranted punishment –as Snape did not relish the idea of having to announce to the twinkling mage that his precious chosen one had died while in detention-. When Snape's gaze finally fell upon the place where he had last seen Potter, he was met by a sight so unexpected that he had to make a double take. Potter was sitting perfectly still, not a muscle moving in the slightest, while glazed over emerald eyes stared straight ahead, blind to the potion master's stare.

For a moment, Snape considered the possibility that his annoying pupil was sleeping with open eyes. Surely it would not be the weirdest thing the brat accomplished since his arrival at Hogwarts. Yet the appalling possibility was dismissed by the look in the eyes of his young charge. Though it was true that the boy was obvious to his surrounding, the sharp pain in the strangely old eyes forbid Snape from deluding himself on the matter of his charge's state of consciousness.

Severus had seen such eyes before. They were the mark of true grief and suffering; the badge of those whose memories were overwhelmingly dark. The kind of eyes that marred the faces of war veterans, abused children and disabused lost souls. The kind of eyes that adorned his face whenever his carefully craft mask slipped.

Yet, how could such eyes have come to tarnish Potter's face? Surely the boy had not lived through a single hardship. Granted, the boy seemed slightly insane, but that did not stop the other teachers from melting before the twinkling puppy-eyes. That being said, the usual twinkling eyes were a far cry from the ones who were gazing steadily at the stone dungeon wall.

"Potter…? Potter snap out of it!" Despite himself the order came out more like a worried plea, than the harsh commend it was meant to be. Somehow it was enough to bring Potter back to reality. Instantly, two cold, calculating emeralds turned to stare at him. Yet the expression soon shifted back to the "normal" hyper-Harry.

The brat gave him a large grin, before winking at him. Immediately whatever concern he might have felt for the brat was washed away by a wave of indignation. Which was amplified tenfold when he noticed that his robes had been turned green, silver snakes patterns tracing elaborated motifs. The discovery that his hair had been turned forest green transformed his indignation into anger, which escalated into full-blown fury upon the realization that the floor and ceiling of his dungeon had been turned silver.

"I am beginning to think that you enjoy my company, Potter. I fear your affection is not reciprocated. It disgust me that a member of my house acts in such an idiotic manner. Congratulation Potter, on being more of a spoiled attention-seeking dunderhead than your father. As of your punishment for your little stunt, you will have the pleasure of serving detentions every night this week. And before you rejoice in imposing your presence on me once more, I will specify that you are to serve your detentions with mister Filch." The tirade was delivered in his deadliest voice, completed with a disgusted sneer.

Potter's response? A giggle, before leaving the redecorated classroom yelling: "Here kitty, kitty."

**(END OF FLASHBACK)**

The memory twisted a knife of anguish in the potion master's guts. The look that had marred Potter's face… He could not get over it. His mind kept trying to rationalize the incident as simply another machination; nevertheless the knife would not stop twisting. That look… He had seen it too often on his snakes.

_Perhaps… _

Severus took a large swing of rum, determined to bury these thoughts.

_Nevertheless… _

Severus smashed his head against his desk once again.

… _he would have to keep watch over the boy._

A loud boom resonated through the bowel of Hogwarts, were a distraught potion master drowned his confusion.

(1)Actually it was a funeral march whistled happily a habit that Harry had develop on the battlefields.

* * *

**A/N: Hi everyone. I finally posted… Since it seems that my old marvelous beta is presently too busy to correct my horrible grammar I am in search for a new Beta. If anyone wants the position please PM me. On another note, I apologize to my reviewer for no posting before, I have been buried beneath mountains of work and I was afraid to post this because it is quite angst-y compared to my usual stuff. Not to worry other chapters should be more humorous, though some will be equally angsty, though I will try not to make it too much. **

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**If you want me to post sooner.**

**Any grammar correcting left in a review is also very welcomed!**


	11. Chapter 10: Hangover

**Chapter 10: Hangover**

**Disclaimer:** I own the universe! No really, I do! Hum… you guys don't believe me? WHY? Is it because I'm insane? … sniff… people never want to believe I own the universe.

**(Draco's POV)**

The golden disk stubbornly crept through the sky; casting battalions of light to battle the surrounding darkness; slowly conquering the heavens, its minions invading the night bathed room; exiling the darkness to remote shady corners while it made its advance in one of darkness' last sanctuary. As it progressed through the room, the countdown to his doom ticked. He braced himself, trying to muster the courage to complete his task.

He spared a moment to curse his traitorous friend. The ex-raven had chosen today of all day to start adhering to the principles of her new house, waking early, and grabbing their mutual friend before sneaking out of the snake den. His brooding was interrupted by the creature's sudden movement, replaced by more important concern about the immediate displacement of his limbs.

He casted the minimum - and strictly necessary - shields to confront the vicious beast. He poised himself, eyeing the beast warily. Wand in hand, healing potion and calming potion at his belt, he made his way to the creature's resting place.

**(Harry's POV)**

Pain. Throbbing pain. Throbbing bloody pain. Throbbing bloody pain smashing. Throbbing bloody pain smashing the inside of his head.

_Uh… Bloody hell… bloody f****** hell…_

Spinning. Spinning spinning spinning, spinning all around…. Spinning spinning. The world kept twirling around.

…_UH…_

Bile rises. Clenched teeth in defense.

…_Uh… Hangover? ..._ _Stop moving world._

The light attacked his eyelids. Causing his right eyelid to twitch… slightly… once.

…_Bloody light..._

Instantly 38 shields were casted.

… _Draco_…

Extend arm. Wait. Wait. Grip bottle. Pour it down throat. Wait more.

… … …

The hangover washed away. And as the tide receded, memories appeared on shore of his mind.

…_Bloody hell…_

**(Draco's POV)**

He watched, bemused as Harry sat up abruptly and began banging his head against the nearest bedpost. He let out a relieved sigh at the sight. After all, if he was occupied hurting himself, he was not dismembering Draco. As the banging continued, concern slipped into his relief.

"Harry."

No reply other than a particularly loud smash.

"Harry." A touch of concern infiltrated his tone.

Again no reply.

"Potter, enough. I believe you have determine with sufficient evidence that your empty cranium is harder than wood, now stop damaging whatever mental faculty you have left and stay still." The slow drawl was delivered with the icy disdain that was the Malfoys' signature.

Thankfully, it snapped the masochist-boy out of his torpor. Slowly sitting up, he turned his gaze towards Draco, who watched as the green eyes started to glaze over, his friend staring absently into space. Resisting the urge to shake him, knowing too well the consequence of such actions, he opted for reaching for the calming draught at his belt. Wordlessly he summoned a glass, and poured in a healthy dose. He slowly brought the glass into Harry's reach and waited. Just when his arm stated to ache, it as relieved from its burden. The glass was emptied in one gulp, only to be extended toward Draco expectantly. After refilling the glass, Draco summoned a second one, sipping it as he collected his thoughts.

"Vodka really…?"

"Hangover really?"

He watched as the skinny boy recoiled on himself and firmly shut his eyes. When the emeralds appeared again, they were old weary, blemished by time. Draco waited, watched as Harry passed a hand through his hair, intent to wait until he was ready to speak.

"I made a mistake." The whisper slithered to his ear.

Draco stayed silent. A thousand ideas of what might have happened assaulted his mind, before he banished them to the outskirt of his consciousness…and waited.

"My mask slipped." The words were layered with self-loathing, the silence stretched as Harry waited to be condemned.

When it did not come he continued.

"He saw."

More silence.

"I got lost in fucking self pity Draco. Damn it, after all _this_, we might loose _everything_ because I can stop pitying myself."

Draco sipped his liquor… and waited.

"Damn it, Draco, say something!"

"Well if you are quite finished." The mocking drawl answered. "So he saw. And of course, the very first thing he will conclude is that you are a time traveler from the future, who decided to mess with the timeline to better the future. Indeed, what _other_ possibility could _there be_? …"

Harry blinked, twice. Threw his head back. Emptied his glass. Blinked. Stared at Draco. Refilled his glass. Twirled it. Started at the spinning liquid. Blinked. And Sighed.

"The dungeons. They look exactly the same. The walls are the same; the gashes in the stones are the same. I just… We came to change a world that does not exist, but… when I look around I still see what was. Waiting there… I remembered another detention, in another time, I remember being so mad… at him … at them… And then I remembered wishing they would suffer like I've suffered." Here a hysterical chuckle broke through. "I remember their death, the fights … the torture… the corpses… the promises. And all seemed so useless…"

His voice broke. In a gulp he emptied his glass.

"Then he called. I barely managed to stop myself from cursing him." Another chuckle. "He saw. I scarcely managed to play a stupid pathetic on him to distract him… … He seemed worried… Snape… worried about me… I guess this is an alternate universe."

Draco refilled their drink and casted a locking charm on the door that would prevent Hermione from entering. No sense traumatizing her with the sight of drunken eleven year olds.

He lifted his glass in a toast.

"To the alternate universe."

* * *

**A/N**: Hey, well this is it for this chapter. It is quite short, but writing angst annoys me, yet it had to be done. And as I am currently over booked with essays (which I should be writing instead of writing this…)… I am still looking for a new **beta**, if anyone is interesting in preventing me from destroying the English language the position is up for grabs.

This chapter is dedicated to **Brainless** who left me the nicest review I have ever received. He (or she) is the reason I updated today, otherwise chances are I would have waited until the Christmas break.

A big thanks to all my reviewers, you really cheer me on.

Any review correcting my grammar is welcomed.

Review after the beep.

**Beep**.


	12. Chapter 11: Friends Part 1

**Chapter 11: Friends Part 1**

A/N: A million thanks to my new beta Adari.

**Disclaimer: My country is way to cold to be England.**

(Hermione's POV)

After a long, but successful day at the library with Luna, Hermione was more than happy to go back to the Loony Den* to share her discovery with her male friends, who for some mysterious reason –Luna had suggested a Tliug invasion – had barricaded themselves all day, going as far as skipping dinner and supper.

Though her friends' absence nipped at her all day, today's discovery had her on cloud nine. She had found a reference to Nargles as real creatures in an old dusty tome, hidden on the top shelve of an obscure corner of the library who had seemingly been surrendered to spiders and dust. She now had solid evidence that her friends weren't completely insane – which was indeed quite reassuring. Though the book was ancient by anyone's count, it was written in a style and manner that clearly indicate the intellect of its writer giving it comforting credibility.

So it was with a bounce in her step, and a dusty old and heavy tome in her arm, that Hermione entered the Loony Den on that first Friday night at Hogwarts. She took a few more enthusiastic steps before being hit by the strangeness of the scene before her. Brush or wand in hand, Harry and Draco were going over the motifs on the walls, adding relief and color. They were presently going over the top part of the walls, and had taken to walking on the ceiling as a means to complete their task.

Though this casual defiance of the Newton's law of gravity might have baffled the bookworm prior to her encounter with the wizard world, she had now spent enough time in the Loony Den to be only mildly titillated by the violation of one of the major laws of physics.

Her current bafflement stemmed from the oppressive gloom that clung to the boys.

Now, standing alone on the marble floor, she wished that Luna had come back with her. The melancholic mood that radiated from the boys was battering her mind from every angle. Some corner of her mind just knew that had Luna been there she could have dissipated the dark.

But Luna had left to chase after the scurrying rat, and so she stood here - alone.

Taking a few tentative steps into the room, she opened her mouth to inquire about the unusual melancholy that had taken hold of her usually cheerful friends.  
Seconds later, silence still resonated in the room. Hermione had closed her mouth, muffling her worried words before they ever came to existence. Taking a tentative step towards her friends she gulped nervously, before opening her mouth to speak. Only to have her words stifled as they surfaced, forced back down her throat by the voices. Stumbling forward she tried again and again to form the words, yet each time the voices clenched her throat, silencing her words.

/…have you seen her hair? And those teeth!/

In her mind the voices of dozen of schoolmates of old were whispering deafeningly.

_/…she's so… Pushy… what a teacher's pet./_

/…know-it-all thinks she's so smart… she can't even use a hair brush!/

The voices she had tried to ignore through elementary school were breaking through to the surface of her mind. Attracted by the bleak despair that encompassed the room.

Dizzy, she clumsily made her way to her bed, closing the drapes around her. Pulling a blanket up to her neck she sat, shivering, desperately trying to push away the voices. They weren't there anymore. She had friends. She had Harry, Draco and Luna. It didn't matter if they weren't That close yet. It Had only been a week. Of course, she didn't know much about their past. She could be expected to know every tidbits of information about them.

She knew that Draco was an aristocrat from the old and prosperous Malfoy family. She knew that Harry the boy-who-lived and lived with his muggle aunt and uncle. She knew that Luna's father owned the Quibbler. See, she knew things about them.

Of course those were all public facts. Even Weasley knew that.

_/…she's weird mom. I don't want to play with her./  
_  
A quivering arm reached blindly for the bed side table, grabbing hold of her copy of Hogwarts a History before quickly retracting, clenching the book to her heart.

_They're my friends right? Harry said he wanted to be my friends. They all said they wanted to be my friends._

Friends ask friends what's wrong, right? I'm just being silly. They're different from Them. They're my friends, they're nice.

But aren't they nice to everyone. They're even nice to Weasley.

But… they said they were my friends.

They also said that there was a Revelc nest in Slytherin.

So they're a bit different. That doesn't make them less my friends!

But the fact you know Nothing about them, and that they never told you how they met. You know they were all friends before you right? It so obvious the shared looks, the synchronized movements…

Clenching the book tighter to her, she squeezed her eyes shut. They were wrong, and so was It, they were her friends. It had only been a week, it was normal that she didn't know much or anything about their past.

She just had to wait.__

But just how long would it take?

They were her friends. She could wait. She wouldn't ruin this. She wouldn't be pushy.__

But just how long will it take?

HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS

A week had passed, during which Hermione watched her friends carefully waiting for some kind of information on their past. She would have been satisfied with anything from a deep dark secret to learning about their last crush. But for all her careful waiting, she got nothing.

She told herself that she had not waited long enough, that there was no reason to worry. After all, everything else was going great. In class, she was earning points and seemed to be doing well despite her lack of magical background. Outside of class, she was always with her friends who amused her with original theories and bizarre humor. Better yet, they were willing and happy to go to the library with her where they ended up spending a considerable amount of time. Yet… no. She stubbornly pushed the issue aside as she entered the great hall with Draco and Luna.

Hermione was picking at her pancakes when the Great Hall started to buzz. Curious, Hermione looked around; all around her students were wearing expressions of a diverse degree of incredibility on their faces, mouth hanging open, while a few fell to the ground. At the staff table, Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling with amazed mirth, while McGonagall appeared to be digging her nails into the table, next to her Snape was pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

At the root of all the stares was Harry, who was skipping his way to their table. Trailing behind happily in his wake was a small wild looking cat. The creature was bouncing, to all appearances trying to imitate the boy's skip. Identifying the cat, she finally understood the cause of the hall's incredulity. It wasn't just any feral looking cat that Harry had managed to befriend, but Mrs Norris. According to the rumors, she was a vicious, vindictive snitch whom most of the school – including most members of the staff – had wished to kick (or bite**) at some point or another.

Watching the supposed menace now, she couldn't help thinking that this was just another case where the wizard world was prejudiced. Undoubtedly the cat looked a bit scruffy, but if one looked past the wild exterior, it was easy to see how sweet the little kitten really was. As soon as Harry reached the table, she picked the Mrs Norris up, and started petting her. Taking out her wand she cast a soft cleaning spell on the cat's fur and was delighted when it took on a healthier, softer appearance. As she ran her hand into the cat's coat, she missed the triumphal look that passed between her friends.

* * *

* The Loony Den was an epithet given to the boy-who-lived dormitory by the other member of the snake house. The designation had taken after numerous students had found themselves hanging upside down or colored strangely after trying to enter their dorm. Though none of the other snakes had ever been granted the honor of a reception like the one given to Parkinson and Nott, they had learn to stand clear of the bizarre door, engraved with unknown motifs.

* * *

** The 15th of November 1988, Minerva had finally snapped while in her animagus form and bit the cat.

Minerva had had a bad week. She was out of her favorite blend of tea. Her students' essays were pathetic. The school was horrifyingly deprived of prankster, which meant utter and complete boredom after so many years teaching the same material. And the bloody, annoying cat was marking her territory, parading as if it owned the place. Everyone knew that this was HER castle. … And then… it had done the unpardonable; it had sneaked into her catnip reserve and stolen it.

So she snapped. Ran through the whole castle chasing the caretaker's cat, to finally corner it on the third floor, and bite it into submission.

It was HER castle, and HER catnip.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was written for my lovely reviewers as their nice comments encourage me to continue writing, and more specifically for . whose review convinced me to write this chapter despite a complete lack of motivation and author's block.

As always Reviews and Flames are welcome.

Press the big button at the lower center of the page.


	13. Chapter 12: Intermission

**Chapter 12: Intermission**

Disclaimer: If I received money for doing this I'd update more often.

A/N: This small chapter is a filler, because I have no clue how to write the next chapter.

**(Dumbledore's POV)**

Dumbledore sate in his office - munching lemon drops. For the umpteenth time since the start of the term, he felt like banging his head against his desk. Of course, he would have to restrain himself. It would not have been very dignified of the headmaster of the best magical school in England to resort to such childish actions.

And Merlin knew that the portraits were horrible gossips, and had the most unfortunate and misplaced sense of decorum!

Moreover, his familiar was likely to mock him if he took part in such action. No, he was Albus Dumbledore, the most respected wizard alive, such a person did not bang their head on a desk, however large and majestic.  
But Albus was tired. Exhausted really. And the Lemon drop would not help anymore.

The caffeine no longer worked on him, not at such an advance age, and after such a long-standing use. Not that the lemon drop were laced with caffeine. … he had moved on to more effective stimulants long, long ago.  
He had managed to create a boost he called Woolen-Socks. Not that it had anything to do with woolen socks, but well, wasn't normal to name one of one's greatest invention after something you loved? In reality, Woolen-Socks were base on highly concentrated Dragon Blood. The fire in the veins of the dragons made for the best stimulant he had ever encountered.

It had its downside. It was highly addictive, made your eyes twinkle by stimulating a normally inactive part of the brain, and had some effects that would have reminded a muggle of cocaine.

But the Dumbledore's family had been purebloods for generations. And despite his love of many thing muggle, Dumbledore was as knowledgeable of current Muggle technology as any other centenarian…

And since he had not tested his product on anyone but himself… he was a little… completely blind to the effects that it had on him. Well, that was not completely true, he had realized that the drug was causing his eyes to twinkle, but he rather thought that it made him look more like a benevolent grandfatherly figure, and Merlin knew those children needed a trusted authority figure.

But even if Dumbledore had been aware of the effects, what was he to do? Stop using it?

Well no one wanted to see their Headmaster detox, did they now? Plus, after the withdrawal was over, they would be left with an insomniac sleep deprived, grieving, tired old man.

The drug allowed him to go days with only a few hours of sleep. One might have asked why he did not simply use dreamless sleep. Well the substance was not only highly addictive, but it lost any efficiency if used too often. So Dumbledore was reduced to using it for no more that 14 hours a week, which meant that he truly did not get much rest at all, and needed something to keep him going. Now one might ask why he did not go to his potion master with his query. But how could the headmaster burden such a poor boy with another more burden. Poor Severus had so many weights on his shoulders already, and he had failed the boy so often. Dumbledore felt his own shoulder sag at the thought. He quickly pushed the sadness away, popping a new lemon drop in his mouth.

Now was not the time for melancholy. Now was the time for puzzle solving. Why was the boy-who-lived in Slytherin? Now really, both of the boys parents had been pure Gryffindors, so why was the boy a snake? Dumbledore wondered if it had anything to do with the cursed that hit him as a baby. Perhaps the curse had broken something in the child. Perhaps Voldemort possessed the boy. No impossible. The boy was way to happy and bubbly to be possessed by a self proclaimed, self-absorbed, narcissistic dark lord. Indeed, Dumbledore remembered that even as a child, Tom had always acted with decorum, and in a dignified fashion. Harry was quite the opposite of that. The old headmaster let out a healthy chuckle. The most likely theory was that the killing curse had knocked a couple of screws loose.

* * *

A/N: Sorry guys. I hope you enjoyed this filler which I posted because I felt bad for not updating for so long. I have a completle author's block. I have my plot ready. But I seem incapable to write the next chapter which is about Halloween. If you want a new chapter, I suggest reviewing or PMing an idea for next chapter. Otherwise, I'll keep trying to destroy this block all on my own by banging my head against a desk. Please please feel free to flame me. The indignation might be enough to make me write a new chapter.


	14. Chapter 13: Halloween

_**Disclaimer**_: Really? Do I really have to do this? I mean really? For the clueless ones: no self-respecting published author would make this many mistakes.

**Chapter 13: Friends Part II**

**(Snape's POV)**

Two down, eight to go. Two grievously maddening and irritating months down and eight more brain-numbing, exasperating months to go.

Snape could not decide what was more annoying, the students' out-of-this-world incompetence, or their insistence of going about their day with smug happiness despite the fact that they have ample reason to be depressed by their obvious lack of brain cells. Today's celebration was a perfect example of Hogwarts' residents "intelligent sensibilities".

Ten years ago, on this very day, the Dark Lord was defeated by an infant, the so called boy-who-lived. This of course, everyone remembered and celebrated with the smug contentment of those who stayed at home and watched while others made the necessary sacrifices to allow said cowards to live their smug little insignificant life with smug complaisance and disdain for those who had had to dirty their hands.

None of them seemed to remember the deaths, torture and gore that occurred before their victory. None seemed to remember that two people had been murdered that "glorious" night.

And no one cared.

Hogwarts' residents were all happily celebrating Halloween. For the _occasion_, the Great Hall had been decorated with ridiculous fervor: bats, pumpkins and candles polluting every corner of the room.

In this day meant to pay respect to the dead, children were laughing and gorging themselves sick on candies. A part of Snape wished they'd chock on them.

The last two months had been more hellish then usual.

The start of every school year normally includes: three-dozen explosions, hundreds of horrible essays that compete to outdo each other in sheer stupidity and numerous pranks and petty fights. To this delightful mix, Dumbledore had seen fit to add a fatal corridor, inhabited by a three-headed-dog, outrageously name Fluffy, who guards a bloody rock, made by a man who should by all right be long dead, coveted by a garlic wearing creep, who at best was an incompetent idiot, at worst a ally of a man he wished was 'deader'.

Hence, Potion Master Snape was in charge of 1) staying alive, 2) keeping the dunderheads alive, 3) keeping the dunderheads from getting maimed in their stupidity, 4) preventing before mentioned stupidity from causing him lost of limb, 4) averting the beginning of a new blood feud caused by a brat killing another brat, 5) assuring the safeguard of the old rock, 6) starving off any attempt of the garlic creep to steal the aforementioned rock, 7) …teaching?

He sometimes overheard some dunderhead complaining about his lack of teaching skill… and far from him the idea of refuting the statement. Severus Snape did not have teaching skills. If he did, he certainly had never used them in a Hogwarts classroom. Since his first lesson, one thing was very clear. Teaching was not a priority. The brats should be thankful that what he lacked in teaching skills he balanced in survival expertise.

Before the term even started, Snape had known his already strenuous schedule would be further weighted down by the added responsibilities linked to the stone, he had also summarize that the arrival of the Potter spawn would cause him some added grief. And that he did.

After the first collision, and three detentions the spawn had not deceased in his ridiculous behavior. The brat constantly found new ways to plague him. Due to his own disastrous experience of detentions with Potter, and a considerable anxiety as to what impossible feat the Spawn would accomplish given another opportunity, Snape had decided that the best course of action was to ignore the brat's existence.

Potter was still his "normal" twinkling self. Invariably at the beginning of every class, the brat would come skipping inside, taking a seat uncomfortably close to his desk. The hell spawn would then proceed to brew his potion…flawlessly, all the while twinkling and winking at him.

But Hogwarts' potion master would not be tricked again. Under no circumstance would he give another opportunity to the Brat to flummox him. Harry Potter would not under any circumstance be given detention again nor would the Spawn be provided any opportunity to be alone with him.

The man-who-was-responsible-for-the-nightmares-of-many-a-generation shivered in reminiscence of the last product of Potter's detention. Miss Norris, an animal that was at least as disliked as its master, and which Snape had often considered dissecting for potion parts, before demising the possibility upon realization that any potion made from this demon would most likely be poisonous and volatile considering the thing's temperament.

The image of Miss Norris merrily skipping behind Harry Potter, the-boy-who-twinkled, shock Severus out of his internal rant. Disturbing. Just plain, bloody, disturbing. Better simply ignoring the boy and acting as if he did not exist, and avoiding being in a room alone with the best… Annoying, disturbing, brat.

HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM HGDMHGDM

**(Hermione's POV)**

Hermione had never truly enjoyed Halloween. After all, when both of one's parents were obsessed with dental health, it was difficult to enjoy a holiday that consists of stuffing oneself with "dental plaguing filth". And so, the delicious candy was replaced with unsweetened things, healthy and tasteless, preventing her from going trick-or-treating, and further ostracizing her from her peers.

This was her first year away from her parents, in theory she could stuff herself silly with candy if she chose to. In theory, she had friends with whom she could share the experience. In theory, she was not strange here at Hogwarts in the realm of magic and witchcraft.

"She's such bloody bossy know-it-all, no wonder no one likes her. Potter probably only hangs out with her cause she's book smart."

The comment carelessly said in the middle of the charm lesson, after she correctly answered ones of Flitwick's more difficult questions on charm theory, resulted in a chain reaction of giggles and mocking laughter through the class. The laughter brought forth other comments and other laughter from a dark corner of her mind. Ten seconds passed slowly as Hermione tried and failed to push the wave of shame down. One of her quills rolled of her desk and broke on impact with the floor. By then, Hermione and most of her possession had made it to the door. A quick run later, she reached the safe heaven of the girl's washroom.

Her silent sobs could not be heard resonating in the cold marble room. Her feet crossed on the closed lid of the toilet could not be seen beneath the door. She was invisible. She wasn't here. No one could see her, find her, hear her. Not that anyone would bother to try and find her.

The door opened with a squeak. Hermione wished that the girl would hurry up, do her business, and leave. But the room resonated with the footsteps of three people. Three people whose footsteps she had come to know from living with them for four weeks. Three people she had not expected would come find her.

"Hermione…" the call did not come as a question, but a soft urging. Stop hiding Hermione. Show yourself.

She didn't want to, they would see her all blotchy and weak and they would finally realize she wasn't good enough to be their friend.

"Hermione, please do come out. Harry will not allow me to hurt the Red headed weasel if you don't agree first." The whining in Draco's tone surprised her, she had never heard him sound anything less than graceful before. Did he really mean that he wanted to hurt Ron for her?

"Hermione did you find a Nargal in there? Is that why you won't come out? Of course if you are conversing with a Nargal I wouldn't want to bother you. But you know that the Sdneirfruoy get bothered whenever you're not near them. Particularly today, they are rather restless. Come out, come out Hermione… Or do you want to play hide and seek?"

"Silly Hermione, you should have told us you wanted to play hide and seek instead of going to charm class! We should play in the Slytherin common room, the girl's washroom have a Ycil opere hyobon infestation."

With a nervous giggle, Hermione left her stall and joined half walked; half ran to the common room. There was just no way to resist the pleading of her friends. The hide and seek game that succeeded was the thing of legend, too bad all of the Slytherin students who witness were too traumatized to ever speak of it again. When questioned they said something of a black-haired demon with a twitchy wand that did not like to be caught when hiding or seeking. The nonsense of that statement was taken as a clear sign they were too traumatized to remember.

Hours later, the rumbling of a stomach reminded them that it was time for diner. The game of hide and seek had ended an hour earlier after Harry was found by Luna in a drawer. The unusual hidden place, added the fact that Harry had somehow reduced himself to the size of Hermione's palm, resulted in a series of questions about the procedure and the safety of such a transformation. The ensuing conversation turned into a teaching exercise when Hermione was finally convinced that the shrinking of an animate being was quite safe if one knew how to do it correctly.

And thus, this is why the portraits along the path from the Slytherin common room to the Great hall were treated with the sight of the Loonies teaching Hermione to shrink her stock of catnip for Miss Norris into a tiny little bag instead of the giant pouch it used to be. Two turns down the road and with a blatant disregard for the interdiction against doing magic in the halls, Hermione managed to beautifully shrink her pouch into something that fit in easily in her pockets.

Two more turns, and a disgusting odor made Hermione want to forsake the Halloween diner. She was entirely too glad that Luna, Harry and Draco had closed rank around her, the smell of their shampoo being the only defense her nose had against the horrible smell. One more turn and Hermione was faced with a Troll. A mountain Troll to be exact.

"A mountain Troll…" she thought she ought to comment on the killing machine armed with a club that stood a few meters from her and her friends, just in case they had not noticed. And Merlin, her friends seemed entirely too calm to have noticed.

Her exclamation seemed to have snapped Luna out of her petrified calm, the blond turned her head from the Troll to Hermione, and then from Hermione to the Troll… and laughed. Now Hermione would have love to say that it was an hysterical laughter, after all, hysterical laughter was the only kind of mirth appropriate when a group of first years were faced with a mountain Troll. But she had spent a month with Luna, and she could tell this laugh was laugh number 3: genuine happy laughter with a hint of silly Hermione, you don't know about mythical creature XZY that does not appear in any book but obviously exists.

And so Hermione waited for the explanation about how this wasn't a murderous mountain Troll. It came 3.21 seconds later.

"Where is the mountain Troll Hermione?"

A finger pointed towards the tall, club yielding, stinky giant.

"You mean the Ymmud-Gib? The Ymmud-Gib is a funny creature who tends to grow too big and go mad because of it, but shrinking them makes them better."

The in depth explanation lasted for several minutes during which the T… Ymmud-Gib stayed exactly where it was at the end of the corridor. The big creature seem to be engaging in a staring contest with Harry… Hermione mentally wagered that Harry would win; he had the most unnerving stare sometimes.

But back to the Ymmud-Gib, which, according to Luna, was a grass creature that experienced horrible sudden growth and sought magic yielding areas in hope of finding someone to shrink it back to its normal size. Sadly they were often mistaken for mountain Trolls and killed. Luna blamed Peerccil Rag for the whole thing. After a glance at Draco, who offered a nod in confirmation, Hermione agreed to try and shrink the poor Ymmud-Gib back to its normal size.

Hermione was delighted when she succeeded in shrinking the Ymmud-Gib on her first try. Sadly, Miss Norris took her moment of gleeful distraction to pounce on the small creature. Luckily, the tiny thing was quite adept in club yielding and Miss Norris retreated with a bruised nose. A few refreshing charm later, the Ymmud-Gib, Ymmud for short, smelled pleasantly of fresh grass and was comfortably sitting in Hermione's palm.

She thought that the creature was just too cute with its little tiny club and mean demeanor.

The foursome made the last few turns without any extraordinary events. They were about to enter the Great Hall when Quirrell sprinted pass them, slumped in front of the headmaster and gasped "Troll – in the dungeons – I thought you ought to know". Their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor then collapse in a dead faint onto the floor.

Hermione was peeved. Not only was their teacher obviously a coward for fainting when he was supposed to be an expert in defense, but he was mistaken in his identification of the Ymmud-Gib. But she could rectify the situation; after all she often had difficulty herself when trying to find references to some of the creatures Luna talked about.

But the teacher was unconscious, how was she to impart knowledge upon him when he was so uncooperatively unconscious? In a whisper, she asked Harry as much.

To the severe consternation of the resident potion master, Harry skipped to the teacher's table, jumped on it, grabbed two pitchers of water, jump off, and threw the water on the collapse teacher. Said coward… hum… teacher flung to his feet instantly glaring bloody murder at Harry who stared back innocently, eyes twinkling.

"Troll? I sorry, did you mean the Ymmud-Gib, don't worry I know it looked kind of like a troll but it is quite inoffensive now" Hermione took the coward…hum… teacher's awakening as her cue to step in and spread the light on the false assumption.

She extended her hands away from her, presenting the Great Hall with a clear sight of the tiny little cute Ymmud-Gib.

Trelawney, who she was told was the divination teacher, and the muggle teacher, a pureblood, who knew nothing about muggle if the rumor were to be believed, collapsed in a dead faint. Some of the other teachers mouth were hanging outrageously and Professor Snape seem to be determined to empty all wine bottles before the end of the feast, after a look in his direction, the head of Gryffindor seem to have decided to do the same.

Meanwhile, the Turban Creep… hum… professor Quirrell was starring at her in incomprehension.

Disgusted by the fact that so many of her teachers were scared of the cute little Ymmud-Gib, Hermione cradled the creature safetly in her arms and made her way to the Slytherin table with the friends.

For a week, the halls of Hogwarts resonated with exclamations about "Loony Hermione" who was apparently as loony as the rest of the Loonies and belong with them. Hermione overheard many such exclamations. If one had bared witness the tears in her eyes upon hearing such a comment, they might have questioned the sanity of the grin that split her face. Loony indeed.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize to all the sweet reviewers to who I swore I would update sooner. I really tried but I hate sad Hermione chapters, plus with the endless midterms and then finals I was a bit overwhelmed… (read dying and bursting my head against the nearest wall). I don't really like this chapter, but I'll post it all the same since I have to update at some point.**

**Next chapter, will be funny and Harry/Snape centric. Yay.**


	15. Chapter 14: The Bar

**Disclaimer: **With all the schoolwork I do, I would never have had time to write seven novels.

**Chapter 14: The Bar**

**(Harry's POV)**

Harry Potter had survived being hit with killing curses, lived through three years of intense war, survived hundreds of attempts on his life, preserved most of his sanity despite decades of friendship with a certain Miss Lovegood. And yet, only now did he understand the true meaning of the word dread.

Shopping. With Draco Malfoy. Worse, shopping for a gift for Hermione Granger with Draco Malfoy.

Hours. Hours upon hours of shopping.

With two weeks until Christmas, the streets of Hogsmeade were beautifully decorated. Lights of all colors floated eerily in the air, casting a glow on the melting snow. Garish wreaths welcomed customers on every door. Jolly holiday songs could be heard coming out of every _single_ shop.

Of course, Draco being Draco, he could not simply owl-order a gift for Hermione. No, that obviously lacked gentlemanly poise. He had to visit every shop in person in his quest for the _perfect_ gift.

Harry had the misfortune of discovering all this after ten continuous hours of shopping, during which every boutique in Hogsmeade—no matter how unsavory or distasteful—was thoroughly examined, and then every shop in Diagon Alley—even those that were merely another franchise of those previously visited in Hogsmeade. Of course, when Diagon Alley proved unsatisfactory, Draco had expressed the certainty that returning to Hogsmeade and going to every _single_ shop for a second time would bring about success in the search for a present.

When Harry had accepted to sidekick Draco in his quest for the perfect gift for Hermione, he had foolishly believed that the main difficulty would be to accomplish the feat of transfiguration that would allow them to regain their adult appearance for the day so that they may escape recognition; as neither first years nor amazingly-famous-curse-scars were supposed to leave the castle without their parents. The shopping itself should have been an easy task. After all, Draco had always been a disturbingly efficient shopper.

Apparently, it was not the case when it came to buying gifts to Hermione Granger.

Exasperated, Harry had repeatedly suggested simply buying her an amazing book. After all, bookworms like books. Hermione was definitely a bookworm. Ergo, Hermione would like receiving a book. Of course, Draco then had to add that Harry's argument might have worked were it not for the fact that the premise wasn't that "bookworms like to receive books _and only books_", but rather, that "books are _one of _the things bookworms like to receive".

And so the quest went on for ten hours continuous hours shopping until Draco found The Gift.

One might wonder where he bought such a perfect gift as to satisfy his desire to please Hermione. What shop could hold such a rare item?

The answer: none.

After twelve _bloody _hours of continuous shopping, Draco Malfoy decided that buying a gift was plebian, and that as a truly superior being he would make her the perfect gift.

At which point he turned on his heels and abandoned his drinking buddy in his haste to return to the castle.

Abandoned his drinking buddy without allowing him to drink himself into oblivion and forget this dreadful day. Desert his drinking companion of the two past decades.

Plagued with a skull splitting headache, the boy-who-live-to-be-42-and-go-back-in-time-only-to-be-deserted-by-his-bestfriend-when-in-need-of-a-drink did something had never done before.

Something he would never have done in the past because of its sheer imbecility:

He entered a bar with the firm intention of drinking until Fudge could sound intelligent.

**(Snape's POV)**

One more week.

One more week before most of the cockroaches swarmed out of his domain. Then he would be blessed with three weeks where he could brew in relative peace in his quarters.

One more week of 'teaching' class; one more week of correcting 'essays'; one more week of holiday cheer.

He wouldn't make it.

Today he had had the 'honor' of escorting third years and up as they did their holiday shopping in Hogsmeade

Lips were blanched, eyes were clenched and the brick of a nose was pinched at the memory.

_Salazar's balls, he needed a drink_.

Looking in direction of the castle, he calculated the time it would take him to make it back to the castle, avoid the headtwinkler, dodge his students, flounce to the dungeon and rescue a bottle of rum from its dust covering.

He wouldn't make it.

Turning on around, he let his weary feet guide him to Hogshead. The dusty, dirty, smoky, cheap bar had the advantage of at least being far quieter than the Three Broomsticks, and less likely to be plagued by Christmas Spirit.

The bar was as inviting as in his memory. Sadly, the holiday cheer seemed to have brought an unusual amount of drinkers to the dim lighted, smoked filled establishment.

Glancing around the room, he failed to discover a free table. After re-calculating the time needed to reunite with his rum in Hogwarts, he sighted and directed himself towards the bar, his last hope to drink in peace. Here he hoped to be able to sit and drink, while staring at his glass and ignoring the person next to him, a feat impossible at an occupied table.

Sadly, the blissfully-lonely-bar-drinking was only a theory; one that life saw fit to contradict. The woman next to him, a somewhat curvy thing with reddish-brown hair and far too much lipstick, who drank some kind of fruity concoction mixed with coconut milk and vodka, had sadly not received the lonely drinking memo, and instead acted on the sad-and-lonely-therefore-horny code.

Perhaps under the impression that she was attractive—and to be fair she was not completely devoid of beauty—she attempted to subtly flirt with the dark brooding man next to her. But her concept of subtlety was like most people's concept of intelligence; it did not match Snape's. Indeed, wandering hands and other gestures in the realm of indiscreet flirting warned Snape that his attempts at discouraging the _thing_ were either ignored or not noticed at all.

Snape's subtle opposition (rather than a more overt and quite possibly brutal solution) was most certainly _not_ due to him being flattered by her attention or any other misplaced sentiment. Quite simply, after throwing diverse glances at the room, it was quite clear: the bar was his best hope of drinking his precious alcohol. Hexing the _bejesus_ out of her would not be conductive to his drinking-while-staring-at-his-glass plan, and he didn't fancy being thrown out by the headtwinkler's brother again. Hence, he endured the flirting.

Sadly, Lipstick apparently believed that his reticence could be overthrown with more forceful persuasion.

Under this delusion, she placed her hand high on his leg... uncomfortably high.

Far from being aroused, Snape jumped to his feet. Luckily, none of his precious alcohol was spilled.

"If I wanted to be molested by a tentacled monster, I would have drunk this rum on Hogwarts Lake, and made offers to the giant squid. As it is," Snape looked her up and down with a deep sneer, "its company seems preferable to yours."

Gulping down his drink in one shot, he asked/demanded another from the bartender, and grasped it.

Snape desperately sought a place to drink in relative peace. The bar was crowded; the smoke filled the air, preventing him from having a clear view of the more distant tables. He was about to give up, and resign himself to return to the castle, when he caught a glimpse of a free table in a corner, particularly dim lighted due to a burned light bulb. With this oasis in mind, Snape made his way through the crowded bar, his full attention on trying to go through the crowd without A) spilling his drink, or B) pushing someone too hard, which could result in a fight, which in turn would ultimately result in spilling his drink.

A relieved Snape finally made it through the crowd, heavily sat down at the table, and took a rewarding gulp from his miraculously un-spilled drink. However, when he lifted his eyes from the marvelous liquid, Snape's celebration of his victory—that of finding a place to drink alone—was cut short.

Sitting across from him, his back to the corner wall was a stranger. His drinking oasis was violated by the presence of a man.

Snape stared at the dark clothed man, who dared sit in his refuge. But after more ample reflection, the shape of the stranger matched what he had previously identified as an old drape from across the smoky room. The stranger had been there before he had even spotted the table. And judging by the man's choice of liquor and location, he too had sought to drink alone.

Disappointed and cursing Lipstick once again, Snape began to rise to his feet.

The man was staring at him. Not a judging stare or a measuring one, nor a disgusting predatory look like the one that Lipstick had cast upon him. A simple stare, neither blank nor stupid.

Snape had risen to his full height when the stranger blinked.

"You will spill that if you try to cross now," the stranger's gaze had moved to the room behind him. Looking in at the bar, Snape noticed that some drunken idiots had started to jerk... or were they dancing...? Staring for a few moments, Snape had to admit that the idiots would cause him to spill his drink. Damn. He turned once more towards the stranger. At some point, the man must have decided that Snape was more interesting that the idiots, for he was staring... again.

"Sit."

Snape's limbs obeyed before his mind processed the word. When it did, he was irked that the man dared order him like a vulgar dog. He was about to deliver a suitably cutting remark when the man spoke:

"Barmaid, two glasses of you best rum, unmixed."

Snape turned, surprised to indeed see a standing next to him. The woman departed to fetch the glasses. The stranger's stare turn to Snape once more. "You were blocking her path."

An irritated Snape was rising to leave this arrogant stranger's table when the barmaid appeared with two glasses in her hand and thrust one in his direction.

Snape was about to bark that he had not asked for a drink when he noticed the sheer quality of the divine liquid. This was good rum, not the cheap imitation that he had gulped down a moment ago. Staring at the liquid, he twirled his glass and took a sip. Marvelous. After a few moments, or perhaps minutes, he detached his gaze from his glass… and met the stare of the stranger.

The man lifted his glass in a silent salute and took a long sip from his glass. The stare did not lift, but it held no demands for communication, no expectations.

Snape lifted his glass, and drank.

**(Harry Potter's POV)**

Harry Potter sat in the corner of a shady drinking establishment, back to the wall. From his dust-covered table, he had a clear view of everything going on in the bar. Or, at least he would have if the air had not been made almost opaque with smoke. A few sight enhancing charm solved the problem, he could now gape happily at the clientele in all its morbid glory. Draco would have fallen over dead at the atrocious fashion violations; they made Luna most eccentric ensembles look positively tame.

After ingurgitating liquor so cheap and harsh that it had made him reconsider his considerable love for alcohol, Harry managed to convince the barmaid to bring him a decent drink.

Sipping at his drink, he suddenly felt horribly exposed. How could he drink when he was out in the open? Anyone could see him or attack him. That simply wouldn't do. Minutes later, dozens of protective wards encapsulated his table. A newly burned light bulb added to the welcoming atmosphere.

A few glasses of rum had appeased his headache.

His pleasant buzz was almost enough to make the smoke inhalation appear worth it. A few glares had sent those who dared approach his table on their way.

But he was bored.

He had never drunk in a bar before. As a teen, he had been too law-abiding to consider drinking. As a young adult, it would have suicidal for him to go drink in a bar. As an adult, he preferred staying the fuck away from the public.

And now, here he was, bored, buzzed and missing Draco's company. The whining git was a melancholic drunk, but he was also hilarious and entertaining. They had spent two decades getting drunk together, after all. Hell, they had had some brilliant ideas while drunk out of their minds.

He missed the whiny, pompous git.

Harry drained his glass again, and hailed the barmaid.

One glass of rum later and he was staring off into the crowed remembering…

That is, until a tall, dark figure caught his attention.

He seemed quite disgusted with the dingy appearance of the bar. For one second, Harry thought that the man would turn around and leaves, but after a moment of hesitation, the man made his way to the bar.

Whereas most customers slouched in their seats, the man sat rigidly, shoulders pulled back and head held high.

Harry used his enhanced sight to peer at the drink that had appeared in the man's hand. Rum. Cheap rum, though. Erk.

The man seemed content to drink while staring at his glass.

Seconds (or was it minutes?) later, a woman started to talk to the man.

She was pretty. Curvaceous, red-haired, flirty, with long eyelashes. She offered the man an ample view of her bosom.

He would probably sleep with her tonight.

Oh well.

Harry finished his glass, and ordered another one.

The woman was flirting quite heavily and touching the man wherever she could reach.

He turned to face her for the first time and Harry caught a glimpse of a rather familiar nose. Snape. Potions Master Snape.

Funny, they were in the same bar. Who knew that Snape drank? Perhaps he was simply here to pick up a woman.

For some reason, Harry felt oddly cheated and disgusted. Severus Tobias Snape should not be going to bars to pick up women. Why? He had no idea, but he was clearly indignant.

Oh, they were talking now. What were they saying? Curious, drunk and giddy, Harry thoughtlessly performed a spell that would allow him to hear what was being said.

Soon he wished he hadn't. Merlin, she was laying it on thick. He couldn't believe that Snape would sleep with such a moron. His potion professor was far too … far too _something_ to sleep with such a witless, tackles, tawdry woman. Right?

From his words and actions, Snape seemed to agree with him. He would not like to have sex with the Red-Haired-Curvy-Idiot. Well at least that was what Harry gathered from his considerable sarcasm.

The girl just didn't seem to be able to take a hint.

He watched as Snape jumped as though Dumbledore had pinched his butt cheek.

The man seemed to have decided to leave. Harry mentally congratulated him for his escape from the Lipstick-Smeared-Tentacled-Monster.

But now, he would be bored again.

Damn.

Bloody Lipstick.

Harry lost himself in his thoughts, as he was warrant to do when drunk.

Staring off into space, he remembered…

He was brought back from blood-spattered rooms by a person sitting down at His table.

He was about to chase them away with a glare when he noticed that the intruder was the object of his previous musings.

He was nursing his drink. Cheap rum. Poor chap.

The more paranoid part of Harry's mind wondered how he could possibly prevent Snape from finding out the similarities between him and himself.

Snape seemed to be enjoying his drink, good on him.

But how to prevent him from…

Oh, lifted his head What to do…?

Staring into Snape's black eyes, Harry was jerked out of his contemplations by the man standing up.

Was he leaving? But why?

Looking pass his potion professor into the room, Harry saw that people had started to dance. They looked ridiculous. Harry didn't like dancing. He had hated the Yule Ball, and never attended another formal dance, much to his relief. Did Snape dance?

For the life of him, Harry couldn't picture Snape being part of the swaying masses; he would spill his drink.

"You will spill that if you try to cross now," Harry thought good to inform him.

His professor turned his head to look at the twitching-people, soon his features settled into a look of utter disgust.

The barmaid was behind him, and his drink was running low. Snape was blocking her way; the way of the alcohol bearer.

"Sit."

Snape's glass was running low as well. That wouldn't do.

"Barmaid, two glasses of your best rum, unmixed."

The alcohol bearer departed in her glorious quest to fetch his drink. He turned his attention back to Snape—who was staring at the departed woman. Displeased, Harry sought to snatch the man's attention from her retreating form. After all, this Snape spent far too much time ignoring him.

"You were blocking her path."

His remark was rewarded by an icy glare, while the man rose from his seat.

The swift arrival of the Maenad and the appearance of quality alcohol, stopped the man in his tracks.

Harry was utterly satisfied at the Snape's blissful expression as he sipped his drink.

There. No one should have to drink horrible alcohol.

Snape looked oddly peaceful.

Harry lifted his drink in a silent toast, and drank.

**(Snape's POV)**

The next morning, a loud curse resonated off the walls of the dungeons, as the resident potions master woke up naked in his bed with little memory of the previous evening past a certain silent salute.

He dragged himself off his bed, downed a hangover potion, changed his password and prayed that his blurry memory of coming back to the castle accompanied by the stranger should not include sex with the unnamed man.

Was eight in the morning too early to start drinking again?

**A/N 1: I should probably add that I don't condone excessive drinking. Harry, Draco and Snape are messed up. I think wars mess up good people. **

**A/N 2: November 25 2012: As the more perspective readers have already noticed I have not updated this story in a long long time. This is unlikely to change due to my absolute lack of inspiration and gradual desertion of the Harry Potter fandom. So to all the disappointed readers, I'd like to say sorry and thanks for reading. **


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